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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304058">Light the Length of August</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Cinders/pseuds/Broken_Cinders'>Broken_Cinders</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blind Character, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:15:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Cinders/pseuds/Broken_Cinders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam thinks of himself as an intelligent guy. He knows life isn’t usually fair. He knows the job they do is dangerous. He knows for them there are no guarantees or ironclad promises. He also knows that time is running out to find his possibly demonic brother and help Cas. He doesn’t have time for another sucker punch from whatever higher power likes toying with him. He still wakes up in the hospital alone and blind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Muscle Memory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam’s back collided with the solid rock of the cave wall. The jagged stone jabbed into his shoulders, but he barely registered the discomfort. His attention was fixed on the looming form of the wendigo that was currently planning to make him the next item on the menu. The thing was at least twice Sam’s height and it was bearing down on him from the tunnel that Sam had just cleared. In the few seconds he had he raised his flair gun, wincing as the motion pulled at his torn flesh where the creature’s claws had gripped him and dragged him down into its lair. There was no time to think about that. He let the pain center him and took aim. Before he could let off the shot he was hurtling through the air. </p><p>He connected with the opposite wall. The crack to his head made his teeth crunch together and his already abused ribs flared in agony as the wind flew from his lungs. His grip tightened on the gun, but he couldn’t do more than gasp in a lungful of air and wait for his triple vision to stop swimming. </p><p>In the end it didn’t matter. There was a flash of movement to his right. Sam’s muscle memory took over. He lifted the gun, aimed, and fired in a single, fluid motion. The resulting blaze of light as the creature combusted sent stabbing pain into his skull. He had to clench his eyes closed and turn away at the sudden brightness as his stomach churned uncomfortably.</p><p>After the initial flare as the creature burned itself out Sam was left collapsed on the cave floor not three feet from the entrance. He braced himself against the cool stone of the wall he’d just collided with and let the rock support him as he struggled to his feet and worked to get his breathing under control. He was immediately reminded of the gashes on his shoulder when he sagged against the wall. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he was pretty sure it was still bleeding. The world around him kept tipping and rolling until he was more than a little seasick.</p><p>He stumbled his way out and into the fresh air of the surrounding woods. It was a relief to be out of the shadow of the cave, but now he realized a blurry film had settled over the world. He blinked and scrubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his vision. He only succeeded in making little black dots dance over everything. </p><p>Concussions sucked. </p><p>He considered resting there for a moment but discarded the idea. His shoulder was definitely in need of attention and if he passed out in the middle of the woods there wouldn’t be anyone to carry his ass back to civilization. He would just have to make it back to his motel room, and his first aid kit, then he could rest. With a huff, he stumbled forward towards the trail that he’d taken originally. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to drive down the mountain but focused on solving one problem at a time. He had to find the car first. </p><p>Sam caught himself against the bark of a tree and tried to orient himself. He thought he had another three hours of sunlight, maybe. He couldn’t afford to wander blindly through the woods. He could feel the sun warm on his cheek and he turned so that he was headed mostly southward. Navigation would be so much easier if his sight would clear and the forest floor would stop pitching like a boat in a hurricane. Distantly, he realized his concussion had to be pretty serious if he was having this much trouble. He couldn’t do anything about it now so he pushed it to the back his mind and struggled onward.  </p><p>Somehow he found the hiking trail and managed to make it back to the parking area with only a handful of new bruises. It was nearly sundown when he fumbled the keys into the Honda’s lock and collapsed into the driver’s seat. The light was fading unusually fast for this time of year, but he knew sometimes the mountains made the days feel shorter. It was going to be a bitch to drive in the dark. He forced his heavy fingers to open the glove compartment and pulled his phone out. He’d left it, afraid he might damage it in the fight and perfectly aware that he wouldn’t get much signal as far in as he had to hike. He couldn’t focus well enough to read the screen. In the end, he pawed in speed dial 2 hoping he might be able to get Cas on the phone, but the call never connected. He must have still been too far out for service. </p><p>He shouldn’t be driving. Between the blood loss and the concussion he was a danger to himself and anyone else he might meet on the road, but he was fresh out of options. He just had to hope that he could keep the car on the road if he took it slow. </p><p>With a sigh Sam turned the key in the ignition and felt the car thrum to life under him. He flipped his lights on and carefully eased the car out of its spot. Squinting and cursing, he rolled out of the lot and onto the main road taking his time and trying to keep the car as steady as he could. It was like staring through a frosted window at night. He was starting to feel, if not confident, then at least like he might survive the whole incident when the car jolted, the tires thumping over something. Sam slammed on the brakes unsure what he’d hit, but he was thrown forward a second later as the car slammed to a stop. </p><p>The last thing that really registered for him was the sting as his face hit the airbag.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi all! </p><p>Thanks for reading! This is something of a prologue. I expect normal chapters to be a bit longer than this one. </p><p>I have been playing around with this idea for a while now and decided I finally had enough to start posting it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. It's an absolute behemoth. I've written over 100k in this verse, but that's without dividing it into it's respective parts. I am still looking for a beta if anyone is feeling ambitious! I've been staring at it so long I'm not even sure what words are anymore.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Darks and Lights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Sam reemerged into consciousness, the first thing he knew was a throbbing in his shoulder – dulled and numbed by drugs, but still present.</p><p>The next was that his neck was stiff from lying in one position. </p><p>The last was that it was unexpectedly dark, like light was filtering to him at the bottom of a deep hole. He blinked, waiting for something recognizable to materialize in the murky light, but it was just dim. He shifted to sit more upright and hissed at the pull in his shoulder. The stinging pain prompted him to take stock of his other injuries.</p><p>He vaguely remembered killing the wendigo. At least he remembered the brute barreling down the cave tunnel towards him as he took aim, but he was pretty sure he’d finished the job. Had he fallen unconscious after that? </p><p>He frowned. That wasn’t right. It might be dark, but he wasn’t lying on cold stone. He was in a bed. He could feel the rough fabric of the sheets twisting in his hands where his fists had tightened.  </p><p>It was just so dark. Something wasn’t right. A pit in his stomach opened as he began to suspect that whatever wasn’t right, it wasn’t right with him. His breath hitched and he noticed a soft beeping increase to match the jumping tempo of his heartbeat. That would mean he was in a hospital. Sam twisted, turning his head to try and understand where he was in the room. His experience with hospitals was that there was always light. Always. Even at three in the morning there was ambient light from the hallway and from monitors. Now it was dark. He felt like he was seeing light diffused through a thick cloth. He scrubbed his hands over his face, but there was nothing there.</p><p>Something brushed up against his bed and he froze. </p><p>“Sam?”</p><p>Sam jerked up and away from the voice. He hadn’t noticed anyone coming into the room.  He had no idea what was around or who was there with him, aside from the fact that the voice had been female. A hand landed on his arm. His training took over. He had his own hand wrapped around a slender wrist with a tight grip before he had processed that she was probably a nurse. He had pulled so that it was clear he had the leverage against her, even lying down.</p><p>“Sir!” The voice was startled and the wrist in his grip twisted against his hold. </p><p>Sam’s head jerked in her direction. “What’s going on,” he demanded in a low, harsh voice.</p><p>“Please, sir,” the woman said. Her voice was soft, but urgent. It had a gentleness to it that Sam associated with frightened animals. It made his skin crawl. “You’re in the hospital. You were brought in after an officer found you in your car. You crashed into a tree.”</p><p>“Why can’t I see,” he hissed. </p><p>The woman in his grasp froze. “What?” Her voice turned stern, losing all traces of the softness it had held just moments ago.  </p><p>“Why can’t I see?”</p><p>“Sir, let me go,” she said, tugging on her wrist. “I need to get the doctor.” </p><p>Sam let her pull herself from his grasp. He wanted answers, but she sounded just as confused as he was. It wasn’t her fault. A doctor would be better able to tell him what was going on. She scurried away, leaving him sitting in an expanse of unknown room. </p><p>Even feeling deep in his bones that he was exposed and vulnerable, Sam couldn’t help the weariness dragging at him. He could feel the drugs swimming in his system working to pull him back under. He had nearly drifted off while debating his ability to escape when someone new entered the room. Sam immediately tensed. He couldn’t have said exactly how he knew someone was there. There hadn’t been a knock at his door nor had his visitor said anything. It was more like the air in the room changed. Sam had long ago learned to trust his instincts in situations like these.</p><p>“Who’s there?” </p><p>He sounded scared even to himself. </p><p>Short clipped footsteps came up to his bedside. Sam was amazed he hadn’t heard them in the hall. He must really have been more asleep than awake. “Hello, Sam,” said a cool, feminine voice. “My name is Dr. Evelyn Kinder. I’ve been taking care of you here.”</p><p>“Where is here?”</p><p>“You’re in the Claiborne Medical Center. Can you tell me your name?”</p><p>That didn’t actually tell him anything. He had been near Wheeler, Virginia, but he didn’t recognize the name of the hospital. He had no idea what insurance information he had on him, either. Taking a gamble he said, “Sam Singer.” Those papers had always been good, and more importantly, mostly legitimate. Even now, after Bobby had been gone for all these years, they still kept the information up to date. </p><p>“Date of Birth?”</p><p>“May 2nd, 1983.”</p><p>“What year is it?”</p><p>“2014.” Sam scowled at the rapid fire questions. </p><p>“Good,” the doctor said. She sounded placating, as if she could sense Sam’s growing impatience. Maybe she could. He wasn’t exactly making a secret of it. “Glad to know you’re back with us.”</p><p>That made Sam pause. He’d assumed he had just passed out after the fight, but something in her tone made it sound like he had been down for much longer than a few hours. “Back?”</p><p>He felt her shift beside him. “You’ve been out for about three days now. Even before that, you were pretty confused when the medics brought you in. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up since we got you stabilized. That was a pretty nasty claw mark you had on your shoulder.”</p><p>Sam didn’t care about the shoulder. It was just one more scar in his admittedly impressive collection. “Doc, my eyes…”</p><p>“Nurse Karen mentioned something about that,” she said, shifting into a more businesslike tone. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to take a look.”</p><p>Sam nodded. Even braced for the touch he knew was coming, he flinched when her cool hand touched his forehead. He allowed her to tilt his head so that she could get a better view. </p><p>“What can you see right now?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Sam said, swallowing down the flash of uncertainty the answer provoked. </p><p>“Is it black?” She pressed as she angled his head to the side. “Darks and lights? Shapes? Movement? Flashes?”</p><p>Sam focused as much as his tired brain could on the question. “Um. It’s all dark grey. Lighter over there.” He waved vaguely towards the left where the dark grey turned slightly brighter.</p><p>She made a noncommittal noise before saying, “I’m going to shine a light in your eyes. I need you to keep them open for me.”</p><p>He nodded and fought the immediate need to blink. Sam was surprised when a light filled the grey field, washing everything out to a uniform white. As it did, his head gave a pulsing throb and he pulled away suddenly very aware that he’d just suffered a major concussion.</p><p>The doctor just hummed. “Pupil reaction is good. In fact, you’re healing remarkably fast. I’d like do a couple of tests just to see what’s going on.”</p><p>It wasn’t exactly the answer Sam was hoping for, but he nodded. Tests sounded reasonable. “You can fix this, right?” </p><p>The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Singer, you were in really bad shape when you came in. You had a severe concussion and were nearly unresponsive. That type of head injury isn’t something to take lightly.”</p><p>“What are you saying?”</p><p>“Nothing,” she said with a note of finality. “I won’t theorize without more information. Let me run some tests and we’ll see what the results tell us.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“Get some rest Mr. Singer. I’ll have a nurse come in and prep you soon.”</p><p>Sam listened as her steps grew distant. He laid back in his bed and let the fatigue wash over him. This was the last thing he needed. This hunt was only supposed to be a pit stop, something he had to take care of before he could resume his search for his brother.</p><p>He felt his headache building again with a vengeance. </p><p> </p><p>Sam was only left alone for a few minutes before the nurse was back, introducing herself as Karen and flitting around him doing whatever it was she was supposed to do. Sam could make a few educated guesses, but her running stream of chatter seemed to encompass the day’s gossip rather than what exactly she was doing. Instead of asking or trying to puzzle out an answer, Sam let himself drift. He still felt worn thin, and if the nurse hadn’t been there he probably would have already drifted off to sleep. One comment towards the end caught his attention. </p><p>“You’re going to have a visitor in just a minute. Dave asked us to tell him as soon as you were awake.”</p><p>Sam sat up straighter, listening as she rattled something near the head of his bead. “Wait, who?”</p><p>“He said he’d be along in just a few minutes,” Karen said, barely even acknowledging Sam’s question. “I imagine it won’t be long. He was nearby when I called.”</p><p>Sam sucked in a breath to try and ask another question, anything to make her stop and explain what she meant, but before he could she patted him on the shoulder and said, “There. All done. I’ll be back in a few to take you down for your MRI. We got you in for this afternoon.”</p><p>With that, she bustled out of the room before Sam could call her back. He spent a few solid minutes stewing in his irritation before there was a knock on his door. Sam turned his head towards the noise, frowning. It seemed like he was careening from one thing to the next today. </p><p>“Hello,” he asked into the void of his room. He already hated this so much. </p><p>There was the scuff of heavy shoes as someone stepped into his room. “Hi.” The voice was deep, but pleasant. “My name is David Pierson. I was the responding officer to the accident. I was hoping you had moment?”</p><p>Sam bit down on the less charitable impulse to ask what exactly the man thought he had better to do. Instead, he nodded. At least he understood who Dave was and why the nurse had called him. Despite his darkening mood, he felt some of his anxiety ease. He’d expected to have someone show up to question him. He had about two seconds to decide how he wanted to play this. At this point, he had a feeling FBI wasn’t going to cut it. It would have to be a good Samaritan act.</p><p>Sam let himself sink down into the right headspace to deal with the problem in front of him. Being convincing as a helpful bystander when he looked as rough around the edges as Sam knew he did required a certain kind of guileless charm. Sam didn’t know if he had the energy for this today. </p><p>With a small grin he stalled by saying, “I hear I have you to thank for getting down off that mountain.”</p><p>Taking that as an invitation, Officer Pierson came into the room and up to Sam’s bedside. There was heavy thump and Sam was suddenly very aware of the cologne the officer was wearing. It was heavy and spiced. Sam waved widely at the wall where he assumed there would be a chair. “Go ahead if you’d like. Pull up a seat.”</p><p>Officer Pierson cleared his throat. “I ah, am here on official business mostly. I was glad to hear it was mostly bumps and scrapes, though.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “Aside from the obvious, I’m basically fine. Thank you, by the way.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. Glad I was late doing my patrol.”</p><p>“Me too. So what can I do for you,” Sam asked. He was feeling nervous of having someone looming over him. He knew in his head that the man beside him was probably a respectable distance away, but it felt like he was on top of the bed. Sam swallowed down the nerves, doing his best to settle in for the conversation.</p><p>“Just a few questions if you’re up for it.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “Sure. Most of that day is pretty fuzzy, but I’ll try.”</p><p>David nodded and pulled out his pad. “I wanted to follow up with you about the circumstances around the accident. Can you tell me what happened leading up to that?”</p><p>Sam scoured his memory, trying to come up with any details that weren’t hunt related. He could barely remember stumbling out of the cave, much less what came after. Giving up, he decided he would just have to go with the official line. He bit his lip and said, “I found the den of that rabid bear that’s been in the papers and took a good hit to the head when it saw me. I hadn’t realized quite how bad a shape I was in. I suppose that’s just the joys of concussions. I remember it being very dim by the time I made it back to the car. I had been trying to keep it on the road long enough to get down to some cell service. Ran off the road because I couldn’t make out the pavement anymore. I think. Like I said, it’s all pretty fuzzy.”</p><p>“You said you were hunting a bear?” Sam could hear it in his tone. He knew damn well that it hadn’t been a bear. He also wasn’t asking what it had been. Sam got the feeling he was willing to roll with it because he knew the real answer would make him regret his life decisions. Sam stuck to the published story. He figured if it made both their lives easier, it would be best to go along with it.</p><p>“Well, not intentionally. I tripped across the den and found that girl up there.” He frowned, only just now remembering he’d been on a rescue mission. He’d lost track of her after she ran and had totally forgotten about her by the time he was stumbling his way down the trail. Guilt swam in his gut as he realized he hadn’t even thought to check on her. “She was trapped and in pretty bad shape. How is she anyway?”</p><p>“Suzie’s doing fine,” the officer said. “She had a sprained ankle and a broken collar bone, but nothing that won’t heal up. Doc says she’ll be good as new in a few weeks.”</p><p>Sam nodded, relief flooding his system. “I’m glad.”</p><p>“What were you doing up in the woods?”</p><p>Sam tensed at the shift in tone. If he didn’t play this right he would come out looking suspicious rather than helpful. “Just a bit of hiking.”</p><p>“With a gun?”</p><p>Sam frowned. “A hand gun that I have a permit for and a flair,” he corrected. “I like to go off trail, and I wasn’t really familiar with the area. I’ve had some bad experiences with crazies living up in the backwoods before. Besides it is bear season. They’re usually frightened off by the loud noise.”</p><p>As Sam spoke he knew the officer was taking notes. The pen made a soft, scratching noise as he wrote that made Sam want to wrinkle his nose. After a short pause, the officer pressed on. “When I found you, you were worried about your father and someone named Dean. Were they with you?”</p><p>Sam’s frown deepened. “I said that?”</p><p>“Yep. Asked where they were and if they were okay.”</p><p>“No,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “They weren’t with me. Dean is out of the country right now and our father died nearly eight years ago in a bad wreck. I was driving and they were both in the car. A semi ran into our lane and collided head on. I must have mixed up the two events while I was out of it. I don’t remember saying any of that.”</p><p>“Well, good,” he said, sounding almost relieved. “Then you won’t be mad that I tried to call the Dean from your phone contacts, even if I did say I wouldn’t.”</p><p>“I asked you not to call him? Did he answer?” Sam didn’t want to sound too eager. It would probably cause more problems than it solved for Dean to answer his phone, but there was always the off chance he might if it came from someone else’s number. </p><p>“No,” the officer said. “I couldn’t reach him. The numbers in your I.C.E. were all disconnected. I did also try to contact a Bobby Singer, since you asked me to make sure he got the car, but...”</p><p>“But Bobby passed away a few years ago too.” Apparently Sam had just spilled his guts to the first person he saw while concussed. He could feel his cheeks heating as he thought about what else he might have said or done in the lost time. </p><p>“Your car is in impound at the station for now,” the officer said, shaking Sam from his thoughts. “I know you were worried about it.”</p><p>Sam snorted. “Nah, not that much. If I was that freaked about it, it was because I thought I had crashed my brother’s car. It’s practically his baby. He’ll be glad to know that even concussed I remembered to take care of her.”</p><p>Pierson snorted. “Older brother, I assume?”</p><p>“Yeah. How’d you know?”</p><p>“I have one of those,” he said conspiratorially. “I may have gotten a few ‘dent my car and I’ll dent your head’ type of lectures in my day.”</p><p>Sam felt a real smile creeping up on him. “I was only allowed to drive that thing on pain of death until I was nearly thirty,” he admitted. “Even then I think he didn’t threaten me because he was doped up on cold medicine at the time.”</p><p>Pierson chuckled. The levity hung between them for a moment, but fell flat when Pierson cleared his throat. “Well, it seems pretty simple to me. I’ll file a copy of my notes if you need them for the insurance information. Thank you for helping Suzie. That bear has cost us good people. We all owe you.”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I did what anyone would have. I’m just glad I could help.”</p><p>“All the same. You need anything, you call me. Here,” he said. There was a sound of ripping paper. Sam tentatively held his hand out. When the sheet was placed in his open palm, he frowned. </p><p>“That’s my number,” Pierson said. “I mean it. You need a place to stay or anything until you get back on your feet, give me a ring.”</p><p>Sam nodded. “Thank you. And thanks again for all your help. I have no idea if I said it that day, but I’d have been in real trouble if you hadn’t found me.”</p><p>Pierson grunted. “Oh, and here,” he said. The bed dipped near Sam’s knee as something flopped onto the mattress, pulling the sheet tight across his legs. Sam reached forward until his fingers met familiar canvas. </p><p>“I found your bag when I searched your car. I know it’s a bit out of the usual, but I figured you could use a change of clothes. Hospital gowns get old after a while.”</p><p>Sam chuckled. He had spent a good twenty minutes earlier thinking about how he’d make it to his motel room in nothing but the paper gown they’d given him if he managed to escape the hospital. “Thanks. I…thanks.”</p><p>There was a brief pause as the door squeaked open. David chuckled before he said, “Well, I think that’s my cue. Take care of yourself.”</p><p>Sam lost track of David in the shuffle of movement at the door. Before he knew it, Karen was back at his side to whisk him off to some corridor on the other side of the hospital where he sat and shivered and waited. It was the first of many long, boring stretches of time. </p><p>When the doctor had said she wanted to run some tests, Sam had imagined that might encompass an eye exam or something similar – half an hour and then some waiting. What actually happened was a day and a half of being poked, prodded, and stuffed in a giant metal tube. It was quite frankly exhausting and terrifying. He quickly discovered that claustrophobia was an issue for him when he couldn’t see. The MRI machine had been tight and unnerving. To have so much noise coming at him in such close quarters sent him into flight mode. He’d made a break for it, sliding out of the tube and punching the poor orderly that had been assisting when he tried to restrain him. Sam had added an anti-anxiety medicine to his cocktail at that point. While he’d managed to sit through the test the second time, he would be quite happy to never have to do that again. </p><p>He was also increasingly frustrated with the staff. Karen and Dr. Kinder were trying, but the other nurses seemed not to care that he was blind, or at least newly blinded. He had been shuffled from one spot to another, manhandled in ways that had his instincts screaming, and left alone with no guidance or reference whatsoever. He felt his frustration and anger rising any time he had to interact with most of them.</p><p>He had taken to meditating just to keep from lashing out at someone, falling back on old exercises Jess had shared with him when he was a jittery mess of nerves that first year in college. He knew it was because this was all new. He was well aware that he wasn’t handling things as well as he should, and taking it out on the hospital staff would only make matters worse. </p><p>Still, by the time Dr. Kinder came back and stood at the side of his bed, he was ready to be done with this hospital and this town. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about how he was going to leave or where he was going to go. His sole focus for the last two days had been to get answers and then get out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Friendly Voice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doctor didn’t have good news. He knew that just from the way she said his name when she entered his room, soft and professional like she was telling him someone had died. His heart immediately sank, but he forced a smile onto his face and turned towards her as she made her way to stand next to his bed.</p><p>“So, what’s the verdict,” he made himself ask her lightly, like they were talking about the weather. He knew what she was going to say. If it had been an easy fix, they would have done something by now. A day and a half of tests and a consult with a neurologist followed by a solemn doctor’s visit rarely meant anything good.</p><p>He could hear her shuffling through papers before she cleared her throat and said, “You have what we call cortical blindness. This happens when something interferes with the optic nerve, usually through trauma to that region of the brain. It’s not uncommon for people with this type of blindness to retain what some call blind-sight. Usually this encompasses sensing motion, a narrow field of vision, and/or, as in your case, light and dark. You are a bit unusual in that both eyes have been affected equally. The good news is that your eyes are physically fine.”</p><p>Sam snorted. So he wouldn’t look like freak. Great.</p><p>The doctor ignored him and plowed on through her explanation. “Now, cortical blindness is tricky. Often the prognosis is good. While many patients may not have a full reversal, it is typical for this type of blindness to improve over time. I do have to warn you, in cases where the cause is a blow to the head, that chance is significantly smaller.”</p><p>Sam felt his headache reappearing. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “What are you saying?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Sam,” Dr. Kinder said. “It might get better. It might not. I’m optimistic that you’ll have some improvement, but there’s no real way to tell except to give it time.”</p><p>Sam felt the tension go out of him. People didn’t just randomly go blind and then miraculously get their vision back. He knew that. He had known this would be the best answer they could give him. At least now he knew. “How long?”</p><p>“Three months at the earliest. And that’s if you get specialized help.”</p><p>“Three months?” That surprised him. He had expected it to be like his sprained wrist. He figured they would tell him to give it a couple of weeks of rest. If it was going to get better, it would.</p><p>She shrugged. “These things take time and work to retrain your brain.”</p><p>“Professional opinion,” he said, bracing for the worst. He had plans to make. He couldn’t be chasing Dean across the country and dealing with this at the same time. He would have to find an alternative solution if this was going be permanent. “What’s the likelihood that I’ll see again?”</p><p>The doctor grew quiet. “You have to understand; you sustained a serious head injury. That doesn’t just go away. In fact, we’ve been monitoring you for seizures as a precaution.”</p><p>“Please, just tell me.”</p><p>“While this sort of thing can be unpredictable, I’d be prepared for the chance this will be a permanent condition. In most cases like yours, the patient regains some vision, but rarely makes a full recovery. Of course, the brain is a funny thing. It could correct itself completely, especially with proper therapy. It’s impossible to say without some observation.”</p><p>Sam tucked that knowledge away, but refused to get his hopes up. He could hardly call the blanket of lights and darks he found himself in vision, not in the strictest sense. Some improvement could be anything from making out vague shapes in his world of grey to occasionally needing readers and there were no guarantees. If the doctor was telling him this, she wasn’t as optimistic as she said. </p><p>Of course, there was still another possibility. “Could it get worse?”</p><p>“It’s extremely unlikely. You’re past the worst of the head injury and you seem to be healing well. No other brain damage is evident. The best way to prevent the condition from worsening is to avoid future head trauma.”</p><p>“So you’re saying I’m blind, and I’m going to stay that way.”</p><p>She sighed. “I’m saying it’s hard to know what might happen, but it never hurts to learn how to adapt. I can recommend a rehabilitation center that’s not too far from here. I strongly suggest enrolling there. They can work with you to increase your independence.”</p><p>Sam fell silent. This was too much. All too much. Dean was missing, Cas was in bad shape and getting worse every day, and now this. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with this. </p><p>The doctor cleared her throat. </p><p>Sam braced himself. He was a Winchester. He would stow his crap until he had time to deal with it. Right now, with questions about his insurance becoming more and more likely every day, he had to focus on getting himself together enough to get out of the hospital. “Thanks doc,” he said, trying not to sound too bitter. “When can I leave?”</p><p>“I don’t think –“ </p><p>“You said three months, right?”</p><p>“Yes, but – “</p><p>“Then, three months. Until then, I can’t sit around here.”</p><p>She shifted, and he knew she was giving him that skeptical look that he got from just about every doctor he’d ever visited. “You need to consider what happens next. If nothing else, I’d like for you to meet with the district’s mobility specialist to get you started on the skills you need. I’ve already called ahead and she can be here in two days. I’d like to keep you under observation until then anyway.”</p><p>“Sorry, doc. I’m not much of a sit and wait kind of guy. I appreciate what you’ve done, but it’s time for me to get going.”</p><p>Not to be dismissed, Dr. Kinder pressed on, steel in her voice. “Then consider where you’ll go,” she said. “I can of course put in a referral to Brookhaven for you, but you should think about the immediate future. This condition is brand new to you. It would be irresponsible of me not to ask how you plan to care for yourself. Is there someone we can call? Any family you can stay with?”</p><p>“Maybe.” Sam hesitated. He’d already toyed with the idea of calling Cas, but he had put it off. Cas had his own problems. Every time they spoke he sounded worse. Sam was sure he was hiding just how bad things really were. </p><p>Dr. Kinder must have read his uncertainty. Her voice was gentle when she asked, “What is it?”</p><p>Sam deflated. He wasn’t going to be able to do this on his own. Not this time around. “Can you…” He could feel his cheeks heating as he even considered asking for help. Even concussed coming down off that mountain he’d been able to navigate his phone well enough to try and place a call. He shoved down the embarrassment. He was just going to have to live with needing the help for now. “Could you help me make a phone call?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Sam nodded. He grabbed his phone from its spot on his night stand and held it out to her. She took it from him and after a few seconds let him know she was ready. He rattled off the number. The doctor dialed for him then made a quiet exit when he took the phone back. Sam held it loosely against his ear, afraid of accidentally hanging up. </p><p>On the third ring, Cas picked up.</p><p>“Hello?” His gravelly voice sounded rougher than usual like he’d been sick recently. Sam knew right then that he didn’t need the added stress of Sam’s problems. </p><p>“Cas? Are you okay?”</p><p>Cas cleared his throat. He sounded a little more put together when he said, “Yes, of course. What did you need?”</p><p>Sam frowned. He didn’t have a good excuse for calling and he really did need some help, even if it was just some advice. “I hit some trouble,” he said.</p><p>“What kind of trouble?”</p><p>“I…” Sam hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I got banged up pretty bad on this last hunt. I –”</p><p>“I can’t heal you anymore.” Sam wilted. Of course Cas would think that. </p><p>“No, I know,” he rushed to say. “It’s not that. I –” Sam broke off as Cas started coughing, a deep hacking that rattled in his chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?”</p><p>“Fine. Continue.”</p><p>“Look,” Sam said, losing what nerve he had. “I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re not feeling so hot. I’ll call you later.”</p><p>“Wait!” Sam flinched. The panic in Cas’s voice surprised Sam enough to make him pause. “Don’t hang up.”</p><p>Sam didn’t hang up, but he wasn’t sure what to say at that point either.</p><p>When the silence stretched unbearably Cas said, “Sam?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’m here.”</p><p>“What did you call about? What trouble did you get into?”</p><p>He sounded genuinely worried. That hadn’t been Sam’s intention at all. “I,” Sam swallowed. “I’m in the hospital. That wendigo did a number on me and, well, I didn’t know who else to call at this point.”</p><p>“Where? What name are you under?”</p><p>“Claiborne Medical Center. Used Singer. I wasn’t sure which ID I had in my wallet when they were asking me questions.”</p><p>“I’m on my way.”</p><p>“No, Cas. You don’t have to do that. I just,” Sam trailed off. </p><p>“What is it, Sam? What’s wrong? How bad were you hurt?”</p><p>“I’m fine. Just needed to hear a friendly voice,” Sam said, trying to salvage the situation.</p><p>“Oh. I’m unsure what to say.”</p><p>Sam chuckled. He had to blink back the frustrated tears that threatened to fall. “You don’t have to say anything. The nurse is coming now. I was just calling to say hey, really. And to let you know I’ll be out of commission for a little while. Listen, I’ll call you when they release me, okay?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Okay, bye Cas.”</p><p>“Good –”</p><p>Sam ended the call and let the cell fall into his lap. He would just have to do this solo. That was fine. He had picked himself back up after worse injuries than this. It wasn’t even the first time he’d woken up in a hospital alone. At least this time he could walk without crutches.</p><p>The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. It might not have been the first time, but it still stung. Between the long days of being a lab rat and the drug cocktail they were weaning him off of, he hadn’t really had time to realize he was alone. Now, left to his own thoughts, the little ten year old version of himself that seemed to pop up, needy and demanding whenever he was hurt, just wanted his big brother. </p><p>Sam fell asleep that night thinking about where Dean might be and what he would be doing. He didn’t think about demons or the mark. He imagined Dean in some random bar, drinking too much whiskey and smiling wildly at the hot waitress that kept throwing him flirty looks. It didn’t really fill in the desire he was trying to shove down under his rationalized practicality, but it made him smile nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>By eleven the next day, Sam wasn’t sure anything could make him smile. He’d gone another round with the doctor, this time making it very clear he was leaving. He didn’t much care if he signed the mountain of forms or not. Dr. Kinder hadn’t been happy, but she’d agreed. </p><p>After the doctor left to find a nurse, Sam let himself relax back into his bed. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. The mattress was thin and the blankets were scratchy and stiff, but he spared a moment to be glad he had woken up in the hospital and not in a car on the side of the road. At least here someone was almost always available to help him if he needed it. The idea chafed and he tried very hard to not ask, but even he had to admit he wouldn’t have managed on his own.</p><p>He couldn’t help the grimace that crept up on him. He was practically useless now. He couldn’t hunt. He couldn’t drive. He couldn’t even reliably feed himself much less cross the street on his own or pick out his clothes. Every day he spent in the hospital hammered home just how much of a burden he had become. </p><p>Dr. Kinder seemed to think he would be able to live independently. He had only been blind for three days and already he could tell sentences like that were going to get really old. What good was living independently if he couldn’t do the things he needed to do? He needed to find his brother. He needed to help Cas somehow. He needed to be able to drive, and read, and shoot a gun. But instead, he was lying in a hospital bed wasting entire days away with nothing to show for it.</p><p>He wasn’t an idiot. He knew he could live with this. With enough training he could probably even manage most of his daily life without help, but that was going to be a long, hard road. It was a battle he wasn’t sure he even wanted to fight. </p><p>He shook his head. This was his reality now. He was blind and the sooner he got over it, the sooner he could get back to solving the bigger problems he was facing. Sam indulged in another second of self-pity to wonder when exactly becoming blind had become the smallest, least demanding obstacle in his life. </p><p>With a frown he refused to follow that thought. He had to get his head on straight. He was alive and had people counting on him. If he wanted to prove that he wasn’t a complete waste of space he was going to have to buckle down, work harder than ever, and figure out how to solve his own problems for once in his life. </p><p>When he heard the shuffle of shoes hesitating outside his door, he forced a smile onto his face. That would probably be the nurse with his papers. “Karen,” he called. He couldn’t help the little bit of genuine amusement creeping into his tone. The nurse was starting to grow on him. She was so cheery he couldn’t help but like her. “Come on in. You know I know you’re there.” </p><p>He was thoroughly unprepared when a low, rough voice announced, “It’s not Karen.”</p><p>Sam bolted upright. His brain was busy trying to decide if he was more nervous or relieved at the prospect of Cas appearing in his hospital room. He hadn’t expected the angel to come and he certainly hadn’t been prepared to break the news this way. At the same time, he felt some of the tension he’d been carrying relax with the arrival of someone he trusted to watch his back.</p><p>Sam cleared his throat, realizing he hadn’t actually said anything. “Cas? You came?”</p><p>“I thought you might need some help after we spoke on the phone.” There was that open sincerity that Sam knew was going to make this so much harder. He didn’t miss the undertone of misgiving lacing the words. </p><p>Instead of addressing the elephant in the room, Sam gave him a tight smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to have to make that drive.”</p><p>There was a pause that made Sam want to squirm. He knew without a doubt that Cas was giving him one of those piercing stares that seemed to see directly into his soul. Finally, Cas asked, “Can you see me at all?”</p><p>Sam froze. Something about the way Cas asked made the simple fact seem even more unbearable. “Oh,” he said, not sure what to say exactly. “Um, no.”</p><p>Cas moved further into the room towards Sam, stopping a few feet short of the bed. “What happened?”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “I finally met one concussion too many.”</p><p>“I fail to see how that qualifies as fine,” Cas bit out. “Even by Winchester standards.”</p><p>Sam flinched at the accusation, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He just shrugged. “I’m alive.”</p><p>Cas sighed and took the last few steps up to be a comfortable distance for the conversation. “You should have told me sooner.”</p><p>“You’re not doing so hot now either,” Sam reminded him. He didn’t appreciate feeling like a scolded child. He had reasons for not dumping this in Cas’s lap. “I didn’t want to put more on you.”</p><p>“Aren’t we friends?”</p><p>Sam sucked in a breath at the question. “Well, yeah,” he said, confused. Didn’t Cas know that by now? “Of course we are. You’re basically family at this point.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Cas said. “As I understand it, family helps one another.”</p><p>Sam shifted so that he was facing Cas more directly. “There’s really nothing to do,” he admitted.</p><p>“I –” </p><p>Cas cut himself off as the door flew open and Karen came bustling in with her usual aplomb. “Afternoon Sam,” she said. “Dr. Kinder sent me. Are you ready for…. Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”</p><p>Sam bit back a smile at her surprise. “It’s fine.”</p><p>“Are you Dean,” she wanted to know. Sam felt the embarrassment oozing off him. He hadn’t talked about Dean at all since the concussion had cleared up, but apparently he’d been quite the topic of conversation before that. Sam didn’t remember any of those conversations.</p><p>“No, Dean’s –” Cas started to explain the situation, but Sam had already told the cops a cover story and he couldn’t afford to have anyone looking too hard at him right now. He jumped in to say, “Out of the country right now. This is my cousin Cas. Cas, Karen, the day nurse around here.”</p><p>“Hello,” Cas said.</p><p>“Oh, right. Hello. Nice to meet you. I’ll just come back later.”</p><p>Sam shot up. She hadn’t made a secret of wanting Sam to stay and he wasn’t about to let her slip away while he was distracted. “Wait! Did you bring those papers?”</p><p>“Yes,” she said. Sam hadn’t missed the way her tone had gone hard. “But I really wish you’d change your mind.” </p><p>“Papers?” Cas asked. </p><p>Sam nodded. “Discharge papers. I’m headed out of here this afternoon.”</p><p>“He means his A.M.A. papers,” Karen added, helpfully.</p><p>“What does she mean, Sam?” And dammit. Cas could make just about anything sound accusing. Sam was a grown man for crying out loud. And he was fine. A few bruised ribs and a cracked wrist that he barely felt at this point. He was practically the Winchester picture of rosy-cheeked health.  </p><p>“I’m not sitting around this hospital playing patient for weeks,” Sam snapped.</p><p>Karen seemed to know when she couldn’t win a fight. She sighed and said, “At least tell me you’ve been considering Brookhaven.”</p><p>Sam snorted. “I don’t have much choice, do I? Besides, they’ll teach me how to walk like a big boy there, so there’s no need for me to hang around here.” He wasn’t bitter about that – not at all.</p><p>“Sam,” Karen snapped. “Don’t think that way. It’s not the end of the world. Just the opposite.”</p><p>“I already told the doc I’d go,” Sam said. “She was going to make the referral call.”</p><p>“What is Brookhaven,” Cas asked.</p><p>“It’s the local rehabilitation center for the blind,” Karen explained. “They’ll help Sam get back on his feet and teach him what it’s going to take to live independently again.”</p><p>Sam felt his posture sag at that. It felt like all the fight had just drained out of him. Instead he was tired. “Is that what you want,” Cas asked.</p><p>Sam sank back against the pillows, waving off the question. “It doesn’t matter much what I want. It’s what I need. You know the kind of life we have. I have to be able to be somewhat independent. I have to do this.”</p><p>“Okay,” Cas said. “I’ll help however I can.”</p><p>“Cas…” Sam said, at a loss. “I can’t ask you to do that.”</p><p>“You’re not asking. I’m doing it. We are family after all.”</p><p>Sam smiled the first genuine smile he’d had since waking up. Things may have gotten flipped upside down, but at least he had one person in his corner. “Okay,” Sam said. “Let’s get these paper signed.” </p><p>Now that freedom was almost his, he couldn’t wait to be out of the hospital. He wanted to go back to the motel, shower the smell of antiseptic off his skin, and put on his actual comfy clothes. He wouldn’t mind a nice, big, greasy slice of pizza and a beer either. </p><p>Karen made a disproving noise, but dutifully stepped up next to him. The tray was swung over his lap and papers were placed down in front of him. Sam reached forward running his hand across them, but they might as well have been blank for all that he could tell about them. </p><p>He bit the inside of his cheek as a little pang of grief crept up on him. He could no longer read. </p><p>Karen, sensing his change in mood, bustled up beside him and placed a pen on the table nudging his fingers. Sam picked it up but hesitated, unsure what exactly he was supposed to do. </p><p>“Here we are,” she said, brightly. “Give me your left hand.”</p><p>Sam held his left hand out. She took it gently and placed his fingers on the page. With a quick sweep across, she added, “Here’s the line. I just need your John Hancock and you’ll be good to go.” His hand returned to the left, presumably resting at the start of the line. </p><p>Sam reached over using his left hand as a guide and scrawled his signature, not particularly caring if it was neat. What was the point? It wasn’t like he could see it. If it got him out of there, he’d sign whatever they put in front of him. </p><p>He knew Cas was somewhere in the room watching the proceedings. He wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or angry about the whole ordeal. Before he had time to settle on an emotion, Karen said, “Sam Singer, you are officially a free man. Doctor Kinder will call you with details about your move to Brookhaven. For now, your chariot awaits.”</p><p>Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting them firmly on the floor. He frowned at Karen’s comment. “No way in Hell am I getting in a chair.”</p><p>“Hospital policy, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“No.” Sam had had enough of that wheelchair these last few days. </p><p>“Sam,” Cas said. “Why not?” Sam didn’t miss the way he was stepping in to stop the conversation from devolving again. In some ways, Sam was grateful for it. He hadn’t had anyone there acting as a shield or asking what he wanted this entire time. It was nice. </p><p>“I am not being pushed around when I can’t see where I’m going,” Sam said. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have two feet. I’ll walk.” Sam had been stranded and manhandled just a little too often in this hospital to feel even remotely comfortable being wheeled anywhere. </p><p>“Not even to save my job?”</p><p>Sam grinned. “You’re too good at your job to get fired over me. Besides, I’m leaving against medical advice. I’m officially not your problem anymore.”</p><p>Karen harrumphed. “Fine. But you owe me, Singer.”</p><p>“Sure,” Sam said with a laugh.</p><p>She sighed but left with a quick admonishment to take care of himself. Sam pushed himself to his feet as the door clicked shut. It felt good to be standing. He had been so wary of bumping into things or breaking some expensive medical doohickey that he hadn’t really trusted himself to explore the room. Nor did he want to trust his safety to some random nurse. He had stayed holed up in his room, bored out of his mind for days. He leaned back, feeling some of the kinks fall out of his spine. </p><p>Cas remained quiet as Sam took the opportunity to stretch and stand. Sam had packed his few belongings earlier in the day into the duffle bag Officer Pierson had brought him. He took a few tentative steps, hand held out at waist height to keep from running into anything and shuffled his way over to the wardrobe across the room where he’d left his bag sitting on a chair. He misjudged the distance. His knees rammed into the low seat of chair, nearly tipping it over. Sam reached out and grabbed the back before it could topple. He used it to regain his own balance before reaching a hand down to find his bag. </p><p>He hefted the duffle and swung it over his shoulder. Cas’s silence in the wake of his bumbling made the heat start to rise in his neck. Sam turned towards the last place Cas had spoken from and said, “I had planned to take a cab to get back to my motel room. Are you checked in anywhere?”</p><p>“No,” Cas said from nearer the door than Sam had expected. “I only just arrived.”</p><p>Sam nodded. He shifted in place, not entirely sure how much he was allowed to rely on Cas. Finally he bit down his pride and ventured to ask, “Wanna help me break out? I’m not sure I know my way out.”</p><p>“Oh! Of course.” There was a swish as Cas came to stand beside him, almost uncomfortably close. Sam could feel the heat from Cas’s arm where it was next to his own. “How do you want to proceed?”</p><p>Sam reached out a hand towards the voice, finding Cas’s arm. He settled for a grip just above his elbow as the most comfortable position given their height difference. “You lead,” Sam said with a lopsided expression. “I’ll follow. Just steer us clear of walls and take the elevator.”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Time to Adapt</h2></a>
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    <p>He had walked with some of the hospital staff guiding him. It had been awkward and uncomfortable. They had pressed close to him and tended to push him out in front of them. It made him feel vulnerable and out of control. Walking with Cas was different. Cas placed himself physically between Sam and the world. He was quiet, but he led with confidence which in turn made Sam walk with more certainty. It still took several minutes before they were navigating together at anything close to a normal pace. </p><p>Sam knew he was inching along. His steps felt timid and short compared to his normal, long stride. He tried to force himself to take reasonable steps, but when each one was carrying him further into the unknown he couldn’t help but drag his feet. The anxiety curled in his stomach. He was leaving the only place that he had built even a passing familiarity with behind to step out into an unknown.</p><p>Sam had been so focused on just walking that he nearly stumbled over Cas when they stopped without warning. They had to be in the main lobby. They had disembarked from the elevator then made their way into a room that sounded large and open. When they didn’t continue after a moment Sam’s face scrunched in confusion. </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Cas hesitated before saying, “I’m parked a good distance away. I didn’t expect you to be leaving with me. It might be easier if I retrieve my car then come back for you.”</p><p>Sam shifted in place. Going outside sounded horrible. He already didn’t like the wide, open feel of the lobby and he knew it was going to be ten times worse outside. Already his grip was tightening on Cas’s arm. At the same time, the last thing he wanted was to be left standing there like a lost dog waiting for someone to come pick him up. </p><p>He bit his lip and said, “I can walk it. It’s fine.”</p><p>Cas led them out the double doors and into the late afternoon sunshine. As the fresh air hit him in the face it was Sam’s turn to freeze in place. The sunlight engulfed him. His world shifted to white so bright he had to clamp his eyes shut against it and throw his arm up to try and control the assault. After the relatively dim interior of the hospital it felt like sharp knives jabbing through his face. </p><p>The minute his hand left Cas’s arm he was lost. He had no reference point and he felt like he was drifting at sea. His panic, already on a tenuous leash after the unexpected pain, nearly overwhelmed him. His breath came sharp and quick. </p><p>Cas’s warm hand found his shoulder. Sam resisted the urge to grab it and cling to it with his free hand. </p><p>“Sam,” Cas said. He had spoken softly, but it didn’t dull the urgent worry in his voice. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”</p><p>Sam sucked in a breath, trying to ease his ragged panting. “Fine,” he croaked. “I’m okay. It’s just bright. I wasn’t expecting it.”</p><p>“I don’t understand. Do you need a doctor?”</p><p>“No,” Sam said shaking his head and letting his arm drop from over his face. With is eyes closed, he could just bear the intensity of the sunlight. “I think it’s okay. I still have some light perception. Inside it made everything look a dark grey. Out here it’s just a field of white. It’s so bright it hurts.” </p><p>Sam could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from where they were watering at the unexpected attack. Sam rubbed a rough sleeve against the tears. Leaving his eyes twisted shut, he reached back and found Cas’s arm again. “I’m okay. Let’s try this again.”</p><p>Cas watched him for another moment but must have decided he was fine. They started moving again. Sam followed Cas’s lead further away from the hospital doors and into the wide unknown of the parking lot. He was leaving a place where his entire life had changed, yet he would never know what it had looked like or put a face to any of the people he’d met. </p><p>He could feel some of the tension ease in Cas’s arm as they drew to a stop again. Cas pulled Sam’s hand from its spot on his arm and placed it on a door handle. Sam reached forward and found the smooth metal of the car. It was hot from the direct sunlight. </p><p>Sam tugged the door open. With a hand on the top of the opening to keep from smacking his head, he fell into the waiting seat and sank into the shaded interior. He let his head fall back against the headrest. </p><p>Cas climbed into the driver’s seat beside him. “I have a pair of sunglasses here somewhere. Would they help?”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “Maybe? Do you need them?”</p><p>“No,” Cas said. </p><p>Sam held still as Cas reached across him and into the glove compartment. There was a lot of shuffling, but eventually the compartment snapped shut and something warm tapped against his clenched hand laying in his lap. Sam forced his fingers to uncurl. The glasses were set into his waiting palm, and he unfolded them exploring their surface. It felt like a pair of wrap arounds, the kind that Dean sometimes splurged on when they had a little extra cash. Sam shoved them onto his face. He took a moment to steel himself in case they didn’t cut the brightness, but to his surprise the world was a shade darker and his eyes didn’t water at the sunlight filling the car. </p><p>He breathed a sigh of relief as he shot Cas a little smile. “Thanks.”</p><p>Cas didn’t respond. Under him, the car sputtered to life. </p><p>The drive to the motel, and Sam’s few remaining possessions, was subdued. He couldn’t figure out anything to say and Cas seemed exhausted in the seat next to him. The five minute drive seemed to stretch on in the heavy silence. Sam couldn’t put his finger on what exactly had made the atmosphere so strained. Maybe Cas was regretting agreeing to help him. Maybe it was the fact Sam was blind now. Maybe he had done something wrong in the short walk to the car. </p><p>Whatever the source, Sam was just too tired to figure it out. The staff had warned him to take it easy as he was coming off the last of the medicines in his system. He felt wrung out and the ever present headache was looming just on the horizon. Without the good stuff, even his wrist and ribs were beginning to ache. Sam couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him when Cas announced that they had arrived. </p><p>He was glad he’d paid a few days in advance. The trail for Dean had gone cold and the missing girl couldn’t wait the two days for the next nearest hunter to show up. He’d paid for a week, not sure how long it would take to find the monster or how long he might need afterward. It chafed that he had paid for something he didn’t really use, but it meant they could bypass the front office entirely. There was no need to navigate further than the hundred yards between the car and the door to his room. </p><p>They made their way inside in the same manner they had stumbled out of the hospital. Sam was secretly glad when the door shut behind them blocking out the overwhelming light and the horrible openness of the parking lot. He let himself relax as he sank down on the bed closest to the bathroom and let his duffle drop to the floor at his feet. He collected himself long enough to smile at Cas and say, “Make yourself at home. I honestly have no idea what state I left the room in, but the other bed’s yours. There should be a beer in the fridge.”</p><p>“You don’t remember? Is that because of the concussion?”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “No, I was running on about three hours of sleep and trying to find the girl before she became wendigo food. I could probably tell you where I last saw everything, but,” Sam shrugged. “Organization was the last thing on my mind. Seriously, if something’s in the way, just throw it on the table for now.” </p><p>He let himself flop back. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be such a bad thing. </p><p>Cas didn’t say anything in response to his explanation. There was a rustling of paper and he could hear Cas moving around the room, but the angel never spoke. Sam found that however much he hated being left somewhere in the hospital, this was worse. He knew Cas was there, but not what he was doing exactly – not for sure. Occasionally Cas would muffle a cough or his breathing would turn heavy.</p><p>Sam sat up after a wracking cough left the angel sputtering. Listening carefully, he stood and shuffled to where Cas had doubled over. He barked his shin on the edge of the opposite bed but managed to find Cas’s arm where it was reaching out to support him against the wall. </p><p>“Cas?” Sam asked. </p><p>“I’m fine,” was the rasped reply. Sam bit his lip as Cas straightened some. </p><p>“Come on,” he said. He pulled Cas’s arm so that it could rest against his shoulder, then turned them back the way he had come. He manhandled them over to the bed, trusting Cas to guide them around any obstacles. He pushed Cas to sit on the bed he had just vacated. “Rest for a minute. I can clean up my own mess.”</p><p>“Really, I’m fine,” Cas said, choking on another, weaker cough. </p><p>Sam snorted and turned his back. “Obviously. Just humor me.”</p><p>Sam shuffled forward until his legs hit the bed a few steps away. He hesitated, unsure how to even go about gathering up the mess he remembered making as he’d strewn papers and maps across the hideous orange duvet. He reached down, tentatively sweeping his hands across the surface, worried about knocking things into the floor. The last thing he wanted to do was grub around on that filthy carpet. It had been a greying brown and matted with things he would rather not think about. </p><p>He could feel Cas’s curious eyes on his back, but he ignored it in favor of proving he could do this small task. His fingers brushed against paper and he gathered up the loose sheets pushing them into a neat stack that he set near his right hip. Aside from the fact that they were obviously printouts he had no idea which were which, but for now it didn’t matter. He’d figure a way to sort through it later. Most of it he was just going to burn anyway. </p><p>He made himself take his time. What would have taken him five minutes to gather up and put away just days before, he spent nearly twenty minutes on now. He had to sweep the bed from the top at the pillow, down to the foot. Loose papers went in one pile, maps in another, and the odd book in yet a third pile. The few clothes he encountered he folded and laid at the foot of the bed to be jammed into his duffle later. He stacked the debris up, maps on top of papers on top of books, and set everything on the table pushed back until they rested against the wall away from the edge where he might knock them off. </p><p>At some point during the process Cas’s breathing had evened out and Sam knew he’d fallen asleep. That in and of itself was worrying. Cas didn’t sleep aside from the brief time he’d spent as human. Even at some of his lowest points Cas had never needed sleep or food or even to breathe. As Sam tucked his clothes into his bag he mentally shook his head at the pair of them. This was a disaster. </p><p>Done with his cleaning and not entirely sure what to do, Sam busied himself with finding the bathroom. He hadn’t had a real shower in days. He might have washed all the forest dirt off his skin, but the smell of hospital clung all over him. He kept catching whiffs of it as he moved. He remembered his plan in the hospital and decided it was well past time for phase one. He could get the shower and the beer on his own. Thanks to his father’s insistence on buying the minimum product, a habit Sam had only started to grow out of in his last years of college when he’d finally had enough money to spend on luxuries like body soap and conditioner, he knew very well that his all in one soap would do just fine for, well, all of him. </p><p>The tight, coiled anxiety turned loose with the smell of the familiar soap and the crappy water pressure. It was funny how the scent of damp mold and eucalyptus could make him relax, but he finally felt like he was, maybe not home, but certainly back on familiar ground. Bad motel rooms had been the background to most of his life. By the time he climbed out and realized he had forgotten to grab fresh clothes he was feeling lazy and relaxed. He simply wrapped the towel </p><p>His easy languor lasted just as long as it took him to trip over something that tangled around his feet and sent him pitching head first over the back of a metal chair. His momentum took hold of both him and the chair and sent them in a jumbled mess onto the floor where his clean cheek became very well acquainted with a stiff patch of the short, bristly carpet while his aching wrist twisted underneath him as he tried to catch himself. </p><p>After an entirely disorienting moment when he tried to figure out up from down and disentangle his legs from the chair, he pushed himself up using his good arm. The back of his head smashed into the underside of the table, rattling the rickety thing and upsetting something on top. </p><p>Sam groaned as his hand went to the sore spot on the crown of his head. Hot tears of embarrassment pickled at the corners of his eyes. </p><p>“Sam?” Sam flinched at Cas’s voice. It was sleep soft and confused. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Sam grunted. “Sorry for waking you.”</p><p>“Sam…”</p><p>Sam braced himself against his good arm, using his injured hand to find the edge of the table and maneuver out from under it. Cas was there as soon as he’d managed to extricate himself from the mess, a guiding hand helping to balance him under his elbow. </p><p>At the touch Sam jumped away, nearly upsetting the table again. Cas’s hands withdrew. “I – sorry. Would you like some help?”</p><p>“No,” Sam bit out. He was mortified that anyone had seen that. But he realized as Cas stood there waiting for him to move that he had lost track of where exactly he was. He knew generally where the table was in relation to the bed, but since he’d lost contact with it, he wasn’t sure which way he was facing in the room. </p><p>Cas, whether he was reading Sam’s mind or just trying to be helpful, cleared his throat. “The bed is behind you to your right, maybe six steps away.”</p><p>Sam nodded, still trying to fight down the urge to either scream or start bawling like a little kid. He turned and took a few cautious steps until he found the edge of the bed. He skirted it and sat down properly on the foot. As he sank into the old mattress, he made another horrible discovery. He could feel the rough fabric of the duvet under his legs and butt cheeks. At some point during the incident his towel had come loose and he’d been standing in the middle of the room, entirely on display in front of Cas no less. </p><p>He cringed, feeling the heat crawl up his cheeks all the way to the top of his head. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and threw it across his lap glaring down towards the floor. “God.”</p><p>Castiel had been doing something on the other side of the room. Before Sam could even offer a word Cas had crossed and deposited something by his right hand. Sam reached out and found the stiff canvas of his bag. </p><p>“Would you like help picking out an outfit?”</p><p>If possible, Sam’s mortified blush deepened. He shook his head, not lifting his chin or acknowledging Cas beyond that. He couldn’t even speak at that point. </p><p>Cas hummed. “Very well. It was a bit of a drive over, and I’m feeling a little grimy. I am going to take a shower. If you need me, call.”</p><p>It was said so matter-of-factly that Sam couldn’t believe the statement was anything else. He nodded, and Cas withdrew. When the bathroom door latched Sam let out a small breath. He relaxed a bit more when the water turned on. He rummaged for the first clothes he could find, not caring if they were clean or dirty. By the time Cas exited the bathroom he had managed to make himself at least not naked and had poked at the buttons on the front of the TV until it was playing some game show in the background. He had no idea where the remote had gone, but all he really wanted was a bit of noise to cut the suffocating silence. </p><p>When Cas emerged, Sam was sipping a beer and sweeping most of the categories on Jeopardy for lack of anything better to do. </p><p>“Hey,” Sam said as Cas puttered around the room. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I ah…well, thanks. For everything.”</p><p>“You don’t need to thank me. I told you that already. And there’s nothing to apologize for either. It will take some time to adapt.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said. He distinctly didn’t want to think about what that might mean – not tonight. “You hungry? I’m thinking pizza. After that cardboard they were dressing up as food, I think I need something greasy.”</p><p>Cas chuckled. “Sure. Would you like your usual?”</p><p>Sam smiled and took a sip off his beer. “Yeah. Sounds good.”</p><p>For one night he managed to keep the world at bay with pizza, beer, and bad action movies that he spent nearly as much time explaining to Cas as he did laughing at the cheesy lines. </p><p>The next day they got the call. </p><p>Sam frowned when he heard his phone ringing. That was definitely his ringtone.  He definitely had no idea where his phone had ended up after the hospital. </p><p>There was a soft rustling as Cas dug for the phone, then he was speaking softly to whoever had called. </p><p>“Hello…Yes, he’s here….Hold on.”</p><p>Cas came up to Sam and nudged his arm with the phone. “It’s Dr. Kinder. She wants to speak with you. Would you like me to step away for a moment?”</p><p>Sam held his hand out and frowned. “No, it’s fine. Just put it on speaker.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yeah. Whatever she has to say is going to affect you too.”</p><p>Cas shrugged beside him. “Dr. Kinder? I have you on speaker. Sam is here with me.”</p><p>“Mr. Singer,” she said. He couldn’t quite read the tone in her voice, aside from the fact she sounded just as professional as always.</p><p>“Hey, doc. What can I do for you?”</p><p>“It’s actually the other way around. I heard back from Dr. Singleton over at Brookhaven. You, sir, are one lucky duck. He had an opening and said he could take you as early as Wednesday. Check in is at 8 am. I realize it’s short notice, but this is actually a big deal. Normally it would take several weeks to get you in.”</p><p>“Wednesday?” Sam asked, dazed. “That’s two days from now.”</p><p>“Yes, I know. Like I said, it’s short notice. I can always call him back and see if he has a later opening.”</p><p>“No,” Sam said. “No, that’s fine. I just didn’t realize it would be that soon. Thanks, doc.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, Mr. Singer. I’ll let Dr. Singleton know to expect you then.”</p><p>“Thanks again.” </p><p>Sam nodded at Cas. </p><p>“So, I guess we’re driving to Kentucky,” Cas said. He kept his voice carefully neutral and Sam was left wondering what exactly he thought of that idea.</p><p>“I…do you want to?” Sam was acutely aware of the fact that Cas had dropped everything and come to help Sam. He didn’t want to push that even if having Cas close made him feel a little more secure. “I mean, I appreciate you being here, but you don’t have to if you have more important things you need to be doing. I can take a cab, or a bus if I need to.”</p><p>“Sam, listen to me. I don’t mind. I want to do this. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”</p><p>“You really don’t mind? I feel like I’m asking an awful lot of you these last few days.”</p><p>“I’m sure. We’ll leave tomorrow and stay the night there. That way we can be on time the next day.”</p><p>Sam nodded. In two day’s time he would be back to learning how to do all the things he thought he had mastered a long time ago.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to all of you for the kudos and comments! I love hearing from you. It makes me want to write even more!</p><p>Just as a note, we are up to the portion that requires a bit of intensive editing. Updates may slow a little. I'm hoping not by much though. Sam's time at the center was oddly difficult to write.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Start Fresh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They pulled into the center’s parking lot at a quarter till eight. Sam’s fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against the door. He could feel Cas glancing at him as he drove, but he couldn’t still his fidgeting. He kept hoping if he told himself this was for the best he would eventually believe it. </p><p>Coming to Brookhaven was the right decision. He had to learn how to work around this newest obstacle. Maybe it was the brittle morning light that felt like broken glass striking his eyes or maybe it was the quieter engine of Cas’s car that seemed to whine instead growl like the Impala, but he felt skittish. He longed to get out of the car and just run. When he walked through those doors, things were going to get a lot more real. </p><p>The car jerked to a stop. Sam and Cas sat next to each other in silence. Sam couldn’t glance over and read Cas’s expression. He was relying entirely on the sound of the angel’s breathing to give him some sense of what he was thinking. The fact that he had settled into something a bit like he was trying to control every inhale, left Sam wondering whether that meant he was struggling with whatever his missing grace was doing to his body and trying to hide it or if he had misgivings about the center. </p><p>Cas shifted, bumping up against Sam’s arm in the tight confines of the front seat. “Are you ready?”</p><p>Sam took his own steadying breath and nodded. It was now or never. Cas climbed out. By the time Sam was out of the car, he had made his way around and was pressing the handle of a bag into Sam’s hand. Sam reached out and claimed the hold that was becoming habitual on Cas’s arms. </p><p>They paused just long enough to speak with the receptionist. She told them to leave their bags at the desk, but quickly shepherded them into a large office. As they entered, someone stood across from them and offered a curt, “Good morning.” Sam nodded in the direction of the voice. It was soft, but authoritative. </p><p>“Hi,” Sam said, extending his hand. “I’m Sam Singer. This is Cas, my cousin.”</p><p>He was met with a surprisingly smaller hand that gripped his own tightly. “Dr. Singleton,” he said. Perhaps Sam had misread his tone earlier. He sounded warm, if professionally distant. “Pleasure to meet you. I have to admit, Dr. Kinder piqued my curiosity about you.”</p><p>“Really? Why?” Sam took a step back at Cas’s prompting and found a chair behind him. He sat, not quite letting himself settle into the cushy seat.</p><p>“She said you saved a girl from a rabid bear, charmed her best day nurse, and impressed the local sheriff.” His voice turned stern. “She also said you were a terrible patient and were unwilling to cooperate with staff about your post-release care program.”</p><p>Sam stiffened at the accusation. “The intention was to find a program like the one you run here. Aside from the obvious, I’m fine. I barely even cracked the arm and the ribs were just bruised.” </p><p>At Cas’s pointed throat clearing Sam huffed and added. “Fine, are bruised. I’ve had worse, and there’s no reason to be lying around in a bed that someone else might need when I could be up spending that time learning what I need to learn. Plus the food was awful,” Sam added, trying to lighten the mood a bit.</p><p>It didn’t work.</p><p>“I need you to understand that we have certain expectations for those in our program. No refusing to work with your instructors or fighting us. No skipping out early because you feel like it. This will be a six-week program. I understand that you are not from the area and you have obligations you have to get back to. Dr. Kinder was vague about that, but if you aren’t prepared to put in the full six weeks you should leave right now.”</p><p>Sam’s grip tightened on the chair arm. “You’re not going to scare me away. I may not like that I’m like this, but I am going to do what needs to be done. I don’t have an option. So if it’s a six-week program I’ll be here for six weeks.”</p><p>The man across from him hummed. “It’s a residential program. That means you’ll be living on our campus for the full duration of your stay. We do not, however, provide accommodation for family members. They are encouraged to visit during our open visiting hours, but otherwise will be expected to be elsewhere.”</p><p>Sam opened his mouth to ask what exactly the man was implying. Something in his attitude pushed Sam onto the offensive. Before he could speak, Cas jumped in and said, “Of course. I understand. When are visiting hours?”</p><p>“Every day between four pm and eight pm. We like to encourage you to come as often as you like – during those hours. Sam will be busy the rest of the time.”</p><p>Sam forced himself to relax back into the chair. It was just his nerves making this interview feel antagonistic. He tamped down his rising temper and asked, “What all is involved in this process?”</p><p>“You’ll start with a consultation visit with each of our three specialists to determine your needs and begin working from there. As part of this process, you’ll also be attending sessions with one of our in-house counsellors. This part of the program is non-negotiable.”</p><p>“I’ve never been great with counselling,” Sam admitted. He had to repress a shudder at his last brush with head doctors. He would never forget nurses flinging meds at him while Lucifer played party games in his head. </p><p>Dr. Singleton ignored the implications of the statement and barreled on. “So you’ve been before. Good. That means you already know a bit about what to expect. Do you have any preferences? Anything we should take into consideration when choosing?”</p><p>“Uh,” Sam said, eloquently. He hadn’t expected to be given much choice in the matter. “I don’t know?”</p><p>“That’s typical. Do you prefer a man or a woman?”</p><p>“Man, I guess.”</p><p>“Any family history of depression, anxiety, or other mental illness?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Dr. Singleton took a moment to scribble down a few notes. He cleared his throat and said, “That’s plenty to start with. Today is your one exception to the visitation rule. If you’d like, your cousin can accompany you on the tour and help get you settled. Then, after lunch, the real work begins.”</p><p>Sam frowned. “That’s it?”</p><p>“That’s it. What were you expecting?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Forms to fill out, maybe? More of a spiel?”</p><p>“Dr. Kinder sent over your records last night. If you want to know about the history of the facility, Mandy will be able to answer most of your questions. As for a spiel, I meet with a dozen people a day. Anything more than what we just had here would be insincere and a waste of both our times.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “Fair enough. What now?”</p><p>The man across from him rose from his seat. Beside him Cas did the same so Sam climbed to his own feet. Cas’s light touch on his elbow guided him around the chairs and back towards the entrance. </p><p>“Now, you take a tour and get settled. Mr. Cas, you are welcome to stay until lunch. Mandy will show you around and make sure you get to both your room and the dining hall. You will have a guide for the first few days you are here.”</p><p>With that, Sam was ushered out the door and into the waiting clutches of an overly cheerful young woman who delighted in showing him around. She offered more information about the building and the program than Sam ever had a hope of remembering. He settled for trying to piece together the basics of a mental map and hoped for the best. </p><p>She talked all the way to the door of the room that was to be his for his stay. She produced a key and excused herself as Sam and Cas both hesitated in the doorway. Sam wasn’t sure about what might be in the room and the last thing he wanted was to go stumbling into the unfamiliar space. “Cas,” Sam prompted. So far Cas hadn’t hesitated to be Sam’s eyes when he needed it. </p><p>Cas cleared his throat. “It’s small, but sparse. The bed is along the left-hand wall. Your bags have been brought up and left at the foot. A desk with a chair are opposite us. There’s a door between the two, presumably the bathroom. And a dresser and wardrobe along the wall to your right.”</p><p>There was a tightness in the way he described the room. Sam bit his lip, itching to turn around and just leave. If they left now, they could just drive until the whole thing became a bad memory. Except Sam couldn’t outrun his world of lights and darks. He shifted in the doorway and dropped his grip on Cas’s arm to step forward into the room. “You hate it, don’t you,” he called over his shoulder as he took a few tentative steps forward.</p><p>“No,” Cas hurried to say. “It’s just not what I was expecting.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Sam paused and tilted his head, listening to the way Cas shifted behind him.</p><p>“I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to hotel rooms,” he admitted. “There’s no television or radio. No refrigerator or anything of that sort. It just seems very bare.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. It sounded a lot like his freshman dorm only with the added bonus of being private. “It’s fine. I doubt there will be a lot of down time to watch TV, and like you said it’s not a motel. At least tell it’s not decked out in some garish theme. After that fish motel…” Sam shuddered at the memory. “I hated that place.”</p><p>“The room is mostly beige,” Cas offered. “The comforter on the bed is a deep grey. It doesn’t look particularly plush, but it’s clean and obviously well cared for.”</p><p>“Bed’s against the left wall?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Sam nodded and struck out that direction. He found the bed easily enough. He would explore the room later that evening. Right now, he felt a little overwhelmed and just needed to sit down.</p><p>“Sam, are you sure this is what you want?” Cas’s shoes made a soft shushing noise as he stepped over the carpeted floor to stand across from him. </p><p>“I told you,” Sam said. “It’s what I need. What does anyone want with a blind hunter? The least I can do is make sure I don’t accidentally get myself killed by wandering out in traffic or slow down someone else. Besides, even if we do find Dean and bring him home I have to be able to be self-sufficient. I’m a grown man, not a toddler. I can’t have people taking care of me for the rest of my life.”</p><p>A silence settled between them after that. Sam busied himself picking at a loose thread he had found on the hem of his shirt. After a long moment Cas finally said, “Dr. Singleton did not seem particularly friendly.”</p><p>“At least he says what he means.”</p><p>They both startled at the sharp rap on the door. They hadn’t bothered to close it when they came in. Mandy’s chipper voice called, “Hello? Sam? I’m here to take you down to the dining hall.”</p><p>Sam rose, nodding in her direction. “Thanks. Give me just a second.”</p><p>She slipped back out. Sam stepped over to Cas. He pulled him up into a tight hug. He didn’t usually go for this kind of physical affection, but it felt right. Cas would be leaving now. Sam almost asked him to stay. He was on the edge of the unknown here and having someone he trusted on his side would make the whole ordeal just a little bit more bearable. That wasn’t fair to Cas though. Instead, he pulled back and said, “Thank you, Cas. For everything. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”</p><p>Cas’s grip tightened on Sam’s arm. “You’re welcome, although you don’t have to thank me.” He stepped back, allowing Sam a clear path to the door. “Call me if you need anything.”</p><p>Sam smiled at him. “Sure. Same. I’ll catch you later.”</p><p>Sam walked forward only to pause at the doorway to find his guide. Mandy instructed him to take her arm and together they left. </p><p>Mandy stayed with him through his first meal in the common dining room and chatted the entire time. He was beginning to think she was nothing but a stream of words. Even having held her arm, he found his impression was of the continual flow of her voice rather than of any physical feature he might conjure in his imagination. </p><p>He pushed his serving of spaghetti around his plate for a solid ten minutes. He wasn’t all that hungry and the pasta kept springing free of his fork no matter how he tried to twirl it or stab it. Eventually he gave up and let himself be shuffled to his next appointment. </p><p>The visit with Dr. Fisher after lunch was about as unremarkable as every other visit with every other doctor he’d ever had. She was thoughtful and made sure Sam knew exactly what she was doing, but otherwise was fully professional and aloof. Sam was getting sick of professionalism. </p><p>He ran through a battery of tests, including a second MRI. It was the first time he had ever failed so many tests in one go. In fact, it was probably the first time he had ever performed so badly on a test, period. He was really hoping these visits would be rare over the next few weeks. He had taken about all the poking and prodding he could stand. Yet it was the last task she set him that really gnawed at him. </p><p>They had taken seats in her office as she went through some basic questions about what he could and couldn’t see. It had been the same sort of things they had asked in the hospital. Finally, she said, “There’s a window in my office. Can you tell where?”</p><p>Sam was caught off guard by the question. He had been aware it was relatively well lit in the room, but he hadn’t realized there was more than one light source. He turned his head, paying attention to the way the grey field that filled his vision shifted. The light was brightest across from him where he presumed the doctor was sitting at her desk. “Behind you somewhere.”</p><p>She made a noncommittal noise. “Can you tell where the desk is in relation to the window?”</p><p>Sam squinted, trying to make sense of the pattern, but it was just a dull gradient. He shook his head. “No. Nothing’s defined,” he admitted. Somehow, despite the dozen basic tasks he’d failed to accomplish during their appointment, this one felt like the real failing. He hadn’t even tried to find the desk by touch. He could guess approximately where it was, but the fact that he could barely tell which direction light was coming from drove home just how much he was missing out on. </p><p>In the end, Dr. Fisher set up a time for him to come back so they could go over everything together before he was whisked away back to his room. </p><p>There was a woman waiting outside his door when they arrived. The soft smell of her perfume tickled Sam’s nose, and he resisted the urge to sneeze figuring it wouldn’t make that great of a first impression. Mandy patted his arm, then was gone down the hall. </p><p>“Hi there, Sam. My name is Helen. I’m your life-skills coach during your time here at Brookhaven.” She sounded short and her voice was light, but raspy. </p><p>Sam forced a smile onto his face and nodded towards her. “Nice to meet you. Where are we going next?”</p><p>“Nowhere.”</p><p>Sam must have looked confused, because she gave a light laugh then explained. “I usually do my first meetings here in the rooms. I’m here to help you unpack and to talk about what you want to get from the program.”</p><p>Sam’s brain raced through the possible ramifications. He had left most of his arsenal with Cas for safe keeping, but he’d kept a few odds and ends. The salt and holy water he could probably explain away, but the silver knife tucked into his shirt and the demon knife hidden at the bottom of his bag would raise some brows. “Um…I don’t really have much unpacking to do. It’s mostly just shirts.”</p><p>She seemed to pick up on his nerves. “No worries. You’re going to be doing the unpacking. I won’t pry or even touch your things if you don’t want.”</p><p>Sam sagged in relief. “That obvious, huh?”</p><p>She laughed again. Sam liked that easy casualness from her. It was refreshing after the cool distance of all the doctors he’d been dealing with. “It’s pretty common among our residents to be wary of letting someone go through their things.”</p><p>“Ah,” he said, fishing out his room key and opening the door for them. “Yeah. I’ll do the unpacking. Although there’s really not much.”</p><p>He led the way into the room and moved to the bed where his bags had sat untouched from earlier. Helen came in behind him as he began the tedious process of sorting through his clothes mostly by smell. He was careful to start a dirty pile next to the bag, not wanting to mix in the clothes he’d worn for three days straight with the semi-clean ones. He would probably just wash everything next laundry day and start fresh. He hadn’t been too diligent in keeping his clothes washed lately.</p><p>“Let’s talk while you sort,” Helen offered. He heard her pull out the desk chair and settle as she spoke. “What exactly are you hoping to get out of this?”</p><p>Sam shrugged, folding a t-shirt and adding it to the stack. “I have to be pretty independent. I need to learn how to take care of myself, by myself. I’m not an idiot. I realize this is going to limit what I can do, but I don’t have time to be dependent on my brother or my cousin, and they shouldn’t have to take care of me.”</p><p>“I’m going to be honest with you,” she said. Her voice was firm, but not unkind. “There’s no point in beating around the bush with these things. With your level of residual vision, at least as it stand now, you’re going to need help.”</p><p>Sam sighed, but didn’t say anything. </p><p>“That being said, I’ll bet you can do more than you think you can. So, full independence or as close as we can get. I can work with that, but it’s going to require some hard work on your part. For everything I put into this, you’re going to have to put in at least double the effort.”</p><p>Sam nodded. He could live with that. “Deal.”</p><p>“Good. Then let’s get to work. I’ll go easy on you today.” She moved in beside him, watching as he worked. “Let’s hang up those button ups so you can get the practice for organizing the closet space.”</p><p>With her help he managed to get everything into some sort of order, although by the end he was hopelessly lost. He’d known he had a number of colors and patterns, but he’d never really thought about it before. They hung them up according to a color system, but Sam couldn’t for the life of him remember how many red shirts he had, let alone what might be dirty at this point. </p><p>When he’d said as much Helen snorted. “Give it time. The first week is always the hardest because you’re not used to remembering everything you need to. But you do have homework. For tomorrow, I want you to wear that green flannel.”</p><p>Sam frowned. “I have no idea if I even remember where that is now.”</p><p>She patted him on the arm. “You’ll get there. We’ll start labelling things soon, but think of it like learning math. You have to know how to add before you can multiply.”</p><p>“So I’m learning addition and colors. I might even graduate kindergarten if I’m lucky.” Sam couldn’t help the bitter tone that crept into his voice at the thought. He’d gone to Stanford. Now he was organizing his shirts by color.</p><p>Beside him, Helen sighed. “I’m going to say this once, okay? What happened sucks. No one is ever going to say any different. That doesn’t mean your life is over. You need to decide how you plan to handle that fact. The world doesn’t stop just because you are blind now. So yes, for right now you’re learning addition. Give me six weeks and I’ll have you doing calculus, but if I catch you wallowing I’m going to assume it means you don’t have enough to do and I’m going to make sure you don’t have time for it. Understood?”</p><p>In that moment, Sam was reminded of a hundred other pep talks he’d been on the receiving end of as a kid. This one was kinder and filled with substantially less yelling. Sam smiled, softly. They weren’t happy memories exactly, but they brought up long forgotten fondness. </p><p>“What?” Helen said, sounding a little off put. “Normally that speech gets a very different reaction.”</p><p>“You just remind me of someone.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“My father. He was a marine and he approached raising kids a lot like boot camp, but he made sure we could take on the world if we had to.”</p><p>“He sounds like my kind of guy.”</p><p>Sam threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you’d have gotten along famously. Or infamously.”</p><p>“Then no moping, cadet. Or it’ll be laps for sure.”</p><p>Sam gave a little half-hearted salute. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”</p><p>She made her way to the door. “Good. I’m going to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early at eight o’clock. Rob should be by soon. Kick his ass for me.”</p><p>With that she slipped out the door. Sam was left thinking he didn’t know exactly what to think about her or this whirlwind of a day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys! I'm so sorry about the long wait on this one. I'm considered "essential staff" right now and have been working like crazy. I'm in retail so it's been wild the last week or two. I have the next chapter relatively ready, so it should be a faster update this time around. Thanks for reading!</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Safe Enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day was far from over. Rob showed up with a soft knock at the door twenty minutes after Helen retreated. Sam tripped his way out of his desk and to the door, pulling it open with a sheepish grin. </p><p>“Hi, Sam right?”</p><p>The voice was deep and mellow like butterscotch candy. Sam found himself smiling despite himself. “Yeah. Sam Singer.” He reached forward expecting a handshake. His hand was clasped in a massive, meaty grip that made even him feel small. </p><p>“I’m Rob. God, you’re tall. It’s not often I’m eye to eye with anyone.”</p><p>Sam grinned. “Believe me, I know the feeling. The nicknames alone get tedious.”</p><p>Sam stepped aside and pulled the door open a little more. Rob took the invitation and came into the room. He gave a short chuckle and admitted, “I didn’t realize you were that tall. I hope I brought the right size.”</p><p>“Right size,” Sam asked as he pushed the door shut behind them. He scoured his memory for any mention of something that might be fitted to him. As far as he knew the center didn’t have a uniform or anything. </p><p>“We’ll get you measured properly, but for now this should do.”</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Here,” Rob said. Sam reached out towards him. His hand smacked into Rob’s as he fumbled for whatever was being held out for him. He tried to jerk away, but he was caught in Rob’s grip again, this time by the wrist.</p><p>“Sorry,” Sam said as the heat began to creep up his neck again. He had always had a very firm rule to keep his hands to himself and here he was groping all over someone. It was the one thing they were adamant about in their small family – no touchy-feely moments. That was one of the things that had been so marvelous about dating Jess all those years ago. She hadn’t shied away from hugs or hand holding. She was just as physically affectionate as Sam’s family never had been. It had been nice, but Sam was strict about not invading anyone else’s personal space. </p><p>“Don’t apologize.” Rob guided his hand to the object he was holding. As Sam sucked in a breath to protest, he pressed on. “No, seriously. Don’t. It’s not your fault. You’re working with one less sense than everyone else. You can’t help what you can’t see. Now take the thing already. It won’t bite.”</p><p>“Er,” Sam said, closing his hand around something cool and metallic. It was short, no longer than his forearm and seemed to be made up of four rods, each about the size of his thumb in diameter and held together with some kind of corded strap. “What is it?”</p><p>“That, Sam, is your independence.”</p><p>“What?” Sam was thoroughly confused. A set of metal tubes was his independence?</p><p>“It’s a white cane,” Rob clarified.</p><p>Sam felt a pit open in his gut. A cane. A large, white, neon sign that told the world he was crippled. That was the cherry on top of this shitty day. It was worse than the tour through a building he couldn’t see, worse than a conversation about how to organize his shirts, worse than the humiliation of eating in a public space. Up until this point he’d been, perhaps not inconspicuous, but definitely not singled out. Carrying a cane would announce clearly that he was less than everyone else around him. </p><p>“Hey there,” Rob said when he’d been quiet for too long. “Talk to me. I don’t really go for the strong silent type.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Sam said, a little hoarsely. </p><p>“Sure. Why don’t you sit down?”</p><p>Sam’s feet took him across the room to his bed where he dropped with a flop of covers. Across from him he heard Rob pull up the desk chair. “What’s going through your head?”</p><p>Sam gave himself a firm shake. This was not about what he wanted. This was about what he needed. He needed to be functioning, and Rob claimed this would help him do that. “Nothing. I’m good. Let’s do this.”</p><p>“We are doing this. Look, no one expects you to just be fine. Trying to push too hard when you aren’t comfortable, especially when we’re about to do something that requires some concentration, can be dangerous. So talk to me.”</p><p>Sam let himself sag forward, catching his elbows on his knees. If he could have seen, he would have been staring at his feet. “I just…it makes it more real, you know? Geeze that sounds stupid. It’s not like I thought it wasn’t real before, just…”</p><p>“It’s a reminder for everyone else.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Sam, let me ask you this; if you saw someone with a cane crossing the road before all this happened, what would you have done?”</p><p>Sam frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“What would you have done? If you were driving along and saw someone using a cane what would you have thought?”</p><p>“Don’t hit the blind person while they’re in the crosswalk?” Sam really wasn’t sure what he was looking for here. He hadn’t really ever considered the issue before. Usually he was too busy actually driving to spare more than a passing thought about who was crossing the road, blind or not. </p><p>“Exactly,” Rob said. “You’d have seen someone with a cane, acknowledged that they were probably blind, then gone on about your business. Most people would. The cane sends a message, sure, but for most people it just means you can’t see. There are assholes in the world, but most people just don’t care.” </p><p>Sam took a moment to really think about the situation. He had seen blind people before. The amount of traveling they did and the kind of circles they ran in meant he saw all sorts of hunting injuries and met a wide range of people. He might have held a door or offered a hand if it looked needed, but Rob was right. Unless it was someone he knew he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. “Yeah. I guess.”</p><p>“I can’t tell you what it will take for you to be comfortable with all this. Just know if people stare, it’s because of their own worries and fears. It has absolutely nothing to do with you nine times out of ten. Or maybe six out of ten. Mandy seemed to think you were attractive.”</p><p>Sam snorted. “Okay.”</p><p>Rob stood and put the chair back in its place by the desk. He tapped his foot and Sam could hear the grin in his voice when he said, “Then let’s take this baby for a spin.” </p><p>They spent the remainder of the short session navigating with the cane and learning how to work with it in the confines of the building. Sam even got out for a short walk through the halls following Rob’s cheerful commentary. </p><p>They had been out walking for nearly half an hour when Rob stopped them halfway down a hallway. He set a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam couldn’t help the small flinch at the unexpected contact, but Rob didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. </p><p>“Keep this up and you’ll be fine,” he said. “You’ve got me after lunch tomorrow. This all gets more interesting from here. The door to Dr. Greyson’s office is just here on the left. He’s your assigned counsellor. Do you remember how to get back from here?”</p><p>Sam gave it some serious thought. “Back down the hallway to the intersection. Take a right. Elevator’s on the right hand side of the hall. Up to floor six. Then it’s two lefts and at the end of the hall.”</p><p>“Exactly right. If you need help getting back, Dr. Greyson can call one of our ambassadors to guide you, but I think you’ll do just fine. So now, just a friendly word of advice. Talk to the doc. He can help if you let him, but you’ve got to be willing to share what’s going on in your head.”</p><p>“Sure. I’ll try.”</p><p>“That’s all I’m suggesting. See you tomorrow!”</p><p>With that Rob was off leaving Sam standing in the middle of the hall. He took a step to his left with his hand outstretched to find the wall. The wallpaper was finely textured under his hand, and he wondered what color they had deemed appropriate for the halls of a building that catered to the blind. He hadn’t thought to ask as they were touring this morning. Sam felt along the way until he found the doorframe. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. </p><p>There was a muffled scrambling from inside the office. Sam frowned, leaning in to hear a little better. Before he could really get into a position to eavesdrop, a man’s voice called, “Come in!”<br/>Sam squared his shoulders and found the doorknob. He twisted it before he could have any misgivings. He knew himself well enough to recognize that he had to get it over quickly. If he didn’t charge in he would lose his nerve.</p><p>When he entered the room he was hit with the cool smell of mint and leather. It was an odd combination but somehow relaxing. Sam paused just inside the door. It was much darker in the room. It was a little disorienting after the bright lights of the hallway. </p><p>There was a shuffle of papers as Sam stood in the doorway and waited for any kind of sign about what he should do next. Across the room, he could hear papers rustling and someone muttering under their breath. The other person cleared his throat and greeted him distractedly. </p><p>“Hello, Sam. I see Rob didn’t run you into too many poles. My name is Kevin Greyson. Dr. Singleton matched us to work together. Come on in and take a seat. There’s an armchair directly ahead of you, or a sofa off to your left against the wall if that would be more comfortable.”</p><p>Sam stepped forward into the space. He tried not to be self-conscious about the cane sweeping out ahead of him. Rob assured him it would come to feel natural. He had to admit it was reassuring to have some feedback about the world around him despite his worries about damaging something in this man’s office. His anxiety was tempered by a bit of relief when he found the chair. </p><p>As he came around it, the man across from him sucked in a breath. “Holy shit. You’re Sam Winchester.”</p><p>Sam froze, blood running cold. It had been so long since he really needed to worry about the FBI’s most wanted list, or whatever government agency had decided it wanted their heads that month, that he hadn’t even been thinking that someone might recognize him. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>Kevin immediately read the tension in his stance. “No, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Kevin Greyson,” he said again. “You helped my sister’s boyfriend a few years back. Vampires. I don’t think we were ever introduced. I saw you talking to the cops, but I never got to say thank you.”</p><p>For the second time in the short span of their conversation, Sam’s mind went blank. He had helped someone this man knew? He needed longer than he probably should have to summon up any kind of connection there, but he did vaguely remember a hunt he and Dean had taken maybe six years ago in Kentucky. A vampire nest had been preying on a mountain town. With a frown, he offered, “London, KY? Keith Horner? They were luring folks out from that bar on the edge of town, right?”</p><p>“Yeah. That’s us.”</p><p>Sam nodded at the confirmation. He reached back to find the chair so that he could sit. “How is he,” Sam asked. He let himself sink down into the enormous chair. He had probably been blocked from view by the overbearing thing when he first entered. “You haven’t had any more trouble out there have you?”</p><p>“No, everything’s been fine. Keith just opened his own business. He and Vicks are married now.”</p><p>Sam smiled. “That’s great!” He always hated that he never got to hear the end of the story. He knew they did important work, but knowing that sometimes the people they saved got a happily ever after made the job worth doing. </p><p>“Yeah, thanks. Anyway, that’s not why your here. I guess I should say that since I technically know you, you can choose to have another counselor if you want.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “I mean, it’s really more that you know of me, right? And besides, it’ll be helpful if you already know what I do. I was terrified I was going to have to do mental gymnastics for this thing.”</p><p>Dr. Greyson laughed. “I can imagine your line of work is a little difficult to explain.”</p><p>“You have no idea.”</p><p>“No, I really don’t,” he admitted. In the space of the next breath, he shifted into something more like the shrink Sam had expected. “I’m sure you’re tired and a little overwhelmed, so I’ll try to keep this brief. My role in your program is a little different from Rob’s or Helen’s. They are here to teach you the skills you need to adapt. My job is to help you process everything, whatever shape that takes.</p><p>“Before we go any farther, I have to get a few things out of the way. I may work for Brookhaven, but you have the same privacy with me here as you would with any other medical professional. I can’t share anything with anyone without your full knowledge and consent except in a couple of really specific situations –”</p><p>“I know. You have to report if I’m a danger to myself or others, if there’s ongoing abuse, or if I’m planning on committing a crime.</p><p>“Yep. Exactly,” he said with a little laugh. “Sounds like you’ve gotten that speech before.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “I thought I wanted to be a lawyer at one point.”</p><p>“And instead you ended up as Van Helsing? That’s a story I’ve got to hear one day. Anyway, there’s two more things you should know. First, if at any time you don’t feel comfortable or something’s not working, you should tell me. I might be able to adjust my approach or you can always be matched with another staff member. Second, I’m going to ask you not to lie here. You can say you don’t want to answer something, but lying makes it nearly impossible for me to uphold my end of this relationship.”</p><p>“Are you sure, doc?” Sam asked. He leaned forward. He really wished he could make direct eye contact, but he had to settle for his most serious hunter voice. He couldn’t just dump his world onto someone even if they thought they were ready. “You’ve already seen vampires, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Werewolves, ghosts, demons – they’re all real and all nasty. The things I’ve seen and done, you don’t walk away from that knowledge.”</p><p>If the revelation that there were other types of monsters in the world came as a surprise, it was well hidden. Dr. Greyson didn’t even hesitate. “Call me Kevin. I’m not one to stand on ceremony. And yes, I’m sure. Like you said I already know.  The only way I can help is if you are completely honest with me so don’t try to protect me. My little corner of the world is safe enough. This is for you.”</p><p>Sam had his misgivings. His world was dark and gritty. He saw the things that moved in the shadows and he faced down monsters that most people had the luxury of not believing in. </p><p>“Sam,” the doctor prompted.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“So, the file that Malcom sent me said this was recent. Was it hunting related?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said. It was weird admitting it. It was like stripping naked in front of strangers. “There was a wendigo living up in the woods. It had taken a girl and I was the only person close enough to have a shot of getting her out alive. The thing slammed me up more into the cave roof than the wall, which is what I told the hospital, but in the end I killed it.”</p><p>“What’s a wendigo?”</p><p>Sam frowned and straightened in his chair. It was one thing to explain this type of thing to a civilian that got mixed up in the supernatural or the occasional newbie just getting his feet wet, but to talk intentionally about monsters with someone who wasn’t also a hunter was just weird. He finally settled on saying, “They are usually old pioneers – miners who went west to make their fortune. They fell on hard times, resorted to cannibalism, and never went back. They snatch people from the woods and take them back to their dens, usually an old mine or a deep cave system, to feed on later like people might stock a larder. It’s weird to see one here. It’s usually a south western sort of thing.”</p><p>“Is it really that odd? Appalachia is all mining territory, even if we are after coal rather than gold. People fall on hard times anywhere you go.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “No idea. I honestly have no clue why some of them become wendigos, while others died off or even what sort of curse or force twists them into those creatures beyond their own hunger for human flesh.” </p><p>“Either way,” Kevin said, “I’m glad to know you’re still out there saving the world.”</p><p>“At least I was.” </p><p>He jerked when a soft chiming sounded from the desk ahead of him. Sam didn’t realize how engrossed he’d been in the conversation. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not that Kevin seemed to be easy to talk to and genuinely more interested in a conversation than probing his inner psyche.</p><p>“Ah, sorry. That’s the timer I set for most of my sessions. It’s meant to be a signal that our time is coming to a close. I find that since the nature of the job means most of the people coming in can’t read a wall clock, it puts people at ease a little. I should have asked if you wanted it.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine. Just maybe warn me next time.”</p><p>“Fair enough. That means we have about five minutes left. As we work together, I’d like your feedback on what works best during this time. This is your time to get settled before you have to go back out, so if you just want to sit and think you can, or if you want to be distracted, I can do that.”</p><p>Sam nodded. “I…that’s actually really helpful. So what now? I didn’t really get into anything upsetting.”</p><p>“How about we call it a day a few minutes early? The first session is always short anyway and I imagine you might want a bit of a breather before dinner. You and I will have a full session tomorrow afternoon. We’ll attack some of the harder questions then.”</p><p>Sam nodded and rose from his seat. He was ready for a break. “See you tomorrow, then.”</p><p>Sam made it back to his room and then down to the little dining hall on his own, thanks to Rob’s afternoon lesson. He had no idea how to get anywhere else, but at least he could fend for himself for the rest of the evening. He did not have the mental fortitude to deal with the wash of words that made up his appointed guide. His brain was mush and he was more exhausted than he could remember being since the trials. He had a suspicion he was headed for his very own mental breakdown and he just flat out didn’t have time for it. </p><p>He sank into a seat at an empty table with his dinner and tried to block out the low hum of chatter around him. At least the burger and fries they were serving were finger food. No one would think twice about it if he made a bit of a mess. He had picked up his burger and was about to take a bite when he felt someone walk up behind him. His frayed nerves sent his hand to his waistband, searching for a knife that he wasn’t even carrying. </p><p>He heard his name. It was said softly, but he would recognize the voice anywhere. He forced himself to relax and set down the burger before he turned with a questioning smile. </p><p>“Cas?”</p><p>“Hey, Sam.”</p><p>Sam gestured for Cas to take a seat across from him. “What are you doing here,” he asked. He realized as soon as he said it that he probably sounded ungrateful and rushed to add, “Not that I’m not glad you’re here.”</p><p>“I thought I’d come see how you were settling in. Was that not okay?” Cas sounded sincerely concerned. </p><p>He bit back a sigh. He really was glad Cas had come back. It was the last thing he had expected, but he didn’t really want to be alone tonight. “No, it’s great. I just figured you would head out after this afternoon,” he explained.</p><p>“I don’t really have anywhere I have to be,” Cas said as he settled down in the seat across from Sam. “I wanted to be here.”</p><p>Sam felt his throat tighten. He cleared it. “You didn’t have to.”</p><p>“I know. I want to.”</p><p>Sam smiled a little more openly. “Thanks, Cas.”</p><p>Cas shifted across from him and Sam got the impression he was a little embarrassed. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said for the hundredth time over the last few days.</p><p>They fell into a stilted silence. Sam didn’t know what to say. Finally Cas ventured to ask, “So how was your afternoon?”</p><p>Sam swallowed his bite before latching onto the safer area of conversation. “Informative. I met all four of the people I’ll be working with. Rob, the mobility specialist, got me started with a cane,” he said waving at the bundle that he’d laid on the table next to his plate.</p><p>“I see. Does it seem like the kind of program that will help?”</p><p>“Yeah. I think it’ll be good for me.”</p><p>“And the counselor?”</p><p>Sam made a surprised noise. “Actually knows what we do. His sister was in a bit of trouble a while back and we helped out. I never actually met him properly. It’s a relief to know that he knows about the job.”</p><p>“That’s good.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said. He couldn’t help himself as he shifted in his seat. He toyed with one of his fries on his plate before he asked, “Any news? I’ve been so consumed with me the last few days I haven’t thought to ask about you.”</p><p>“You’ve been a bit preoccupied. I wasn’t bothered by it.”</p><p>“Still, have you heard anything…about your grace or Dean?”</p><p>“No, on both fronts.”</p><p>Sam nodded. He really hadn’t expected anything else. For some reason things between them had lost the ease that had slowly built over the years. True, they hadn’t exactly been fast friends when Cas first showed up, but they had grown to respect each other and Sam had a particular fondness for the angel. Sam hated this conversation that lurched forward in fits and starts. “Cas? Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.”</p><p>“I am...not well, but I’m fine.”</p><p>“Is that Winchester fine?”</p><p>“That doesn’t even make sense,” Cas said blandly.</p><p>Sam shrugged, letting it go. He needed to change the subject before any more of their visit was eaten up by the somber mood. “So,” he said, forcing himself to pop the fry he had been twirling between his fingers into his mouth and swallowing down his discomfort. “I’m supposed to wear that unfortunate green plaid shirt tomorrow. Helen told me it was my homework to remember which shirt got put where. I can’t believe I still have that thing after Dean barfed all over it.”</p><p>Across from him, Cas seemed to relax at the abrupt topic shift. “I distinctly remember you saying you were going to burn it.”</p><p>“Yeah. I do too. Maybe it’s haunting me.”</p><p>Cas chuckled. “I could help you perform an exorcism if you like.”</p><p>“Nah,” Sam laughed. He could just imagine explaining that one to the center. “Just maybe take a look and see if it’s barf stained?”</p><p>“Would that be cheating? It sounds like you’re asking me to show you which shirt is which.”</p><p>“Spoil sport. I’ve got a dozen shirts and Helen did some sort of organizing by color thing and I still don’t remember which one is which.”</p><p>“Then you have a one in twelve chance.”</p><p>Sam snorted. “I appreciate the sympathy.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. One Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam fell into a routine over the course of the next few weeks. He rose early to be bullied by Helen, spent a few hours under Rob’s patient guidance, talked about some frankly weird parts of his life with Kevin, then stayed up late practicing everything he had learned. The sooner he mastered the basics, the sooner he could get started on the skills he really needed like learning to navigate his computer or traveling long distances. He was going to run headfirst at these problems until he was on level ground again. </p><p>He was just starting his third week at the center when he hit his first real stumbling block. </p><p>His day started early. He sprang up in bed, drenched in sweat and panting after a nightmare that had evaporated from his memory nearly as soon as he opened his eyes. He was just left with the sense of having been chased by something huge with many long, vicious teeth. Somehow he still felt like Lucifer had been playing around in his head again. It left him off balance enough that he elected to skip breakfast entirely in favor of taking an extra-long, hot shower to try and loosen his tension and relax enough that he might feel safe in his own skin. </p><p>Then Helen showed up with her usual aplomb and hit him with the unexpected right off the bat. They were working in his room today, she wasted no time. Before she was even fully through the door she was talking. “So,” she said. Sam could hear the grin in her voice and knew he wasn’t going to like whatever she was about to say to him. “I’ve got three things for you today. Two questions and a challenge. What would you like first?”</p><p>Sam was still trying to shake off the heavy terror of his nightmares and was battling through the fatigue of a restless night. He sank onto his bed. “Questions,” he said without hesitation. </p><p>“Okay. Question one is how do you feel about Braille?”</p><p>Sam froze. Braille? He almost wanted to smack himself. How had he not thought of it sooner? The more he considered it, the more excited he got. He’d thought reading had been permanently and irrevocably stolen from him. It was one of the things he’d been struggling with the most. He longed to read. Braille wouldn’t be the same exactly, but it might give him some of that freedom back. “I’d like that.”</p><p>“Let me see your hands.”</p><p>He held them out, palms up. “What are you looking for,” he asked as Helen’s soft fingers grasped his hands and began turning them, feeling over the rough patches of callouses he’d earned in his years as a hunter. </p><p>“One of the things the Hallmark movies don’t mention is that Braille can be hard. It’s a lot to remember, and it can be bulky. But more importantly it requires a certain amount of sensitivity in your fingers. That’s something not everyone has.” She turned his hands this way and that. “Do you handle guns regularly?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam admitted. He had no reason to lie here. It would only slow things down. </p><p>“Bows?” She sounded confused as she traced along the inside of his middle finger. “Is that what that’s from? I’ve never seen callouses like this.”</p><p>“No,” Sam said. He wracked his brain for what might rub that particular spot in his work. “I know how to use one, but archery isn’t very practical in my line of work. Shovel maybe? I did a lot of knife work too.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Helen said finally. She let his hands drop and stepped back. “I’m a little concerned about the placement of some of those callouses, but we’ll give it a try if you want to. It’ll mean an extra study period with me three times a week in the evenings.”</p><p>“Yes,” Sam said with absolute conviction. Helen chuckled at him. </p><p>“Good. Then my next question is do you have someone who will be living with you or who will be helping you occasionally?”</p><p>Sam frowned unsure where this line of questioning might be headed. “My brother eventually, but he’s out of the country right now. My cousin, Cas, has been staying with me.”</p><p>“Ah, good. Tell them they should be here tomorrow if they can.”</p><p>“What?” Sam asked alarmed. “Why? Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No, Sam. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just the next step in the program. Nobody figures you’re going to be alone and learning to live with other people is just as important as standing on your own two feet. Don’t worry. We won’t have many of these days, but a few are helpful so everyone’s prepared when it’s time to go back into the real world. It’s just time for Cas’s boot camp.”</p><p>Sam snorted, but said, “I’ll ask, but you should know that he’s not been feeling well. I’m not sure what he’ll be up for.”</p><p>“Is it contagious,” Helen asked, suddenly serious. “We have a handful of residents with compromised immune systems.”</p><p>“No, nothing like that,” Sam rushed to assure her. “But he tires easily, and he won’t ask for a break.”</p><p>“Can I ask what his condition is without it feeling like I’m prying?”</p><p>Sam bit his lip. How did he explain that angels detoxing from stolen grace were every bit as vulnerable and sick as someone with a life threatening illness. Angel flu didn’t sound like the best description to offer up. Eventually he settled for saying, “We don’t know. The doctors haven’t been able to figure out exactly what it is.”</p><p>“Ah. Well, I’ll leave it up to you. If you think he’ll be okay, he really should come in. We usually do two or three sessions with a family member present, but it’s not a requirement by any means.”</p><p>“I’ll see what he’s up to doing.”</p><p>“That’s all I ask,” Helen said with a smile in her voice. “Now up. We’re playing hide and seek today.”</p><p>Sam groaned and stood. “And I’m guessing it’s not the fun kind.”</p><p>Helen snickered. “Depends. I always have fun. You’re looking for a dropped dollar bill. It’s inside the suite and out in plain view. You know you had it when you got home, but somewhere in the last half hour you dropped it. Let’s see if you can do it in under ten minutes.”</p><p>Sam sighed and began to think through the problem.  Helen was good at setting things up so that if he considered what she’d told him, he could typically do whatever task she set him and this wasn’t unlike some of the drills his father had run both boys through. At least this one wouldn’t literally bite him in the ass if he did it wrong. </p><p>He had to find dropped money. He could do that. He’d been learning search patterns and sweeping methods since he was in middle school and his suite was tiny compared to an entire forest. It just took some added thinking to apply it to the situation and a few moments to tamp down the embarrassment of grubbing around with his butt in the air when it became apparent it wasn’t on his desk.</p><p>It took him eight minutes to make a discovery. He sat up with a crow of triumph when he found the crumpled paper tucked up near the leg of his wardrobe. When he hefted it over his head, Helen tutted. “That’s one you actually lost. Geeze Singer. Why do you like to do this to me?”</p><p>Sam smoothed the bill out between his fingers with a frown. “This isn’t it? You’re not just teasing?”</p><p>Helen snorted. “Well, for starters that’s a five.”</p><p>“But, I didn’t bring any cash with me.” Sam had only had cards on him, having spent the last of his cash at the gas station when they stopped on their way to the center. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Helen sounded skeptical. “It could have been in a pocket and fell out when you put your clothes away.”</p><p>Sam shrugged. He knew for a fact that he didn’t have any cash. </p><p>“Well, congrats. You’re five dollars richer, but you’re timer is still running.”</p><p>Sam grumbled. He tucked the bill into his pocket so that he wouldn’t lose it and kept searching. Three more minutes and he found the actual dollar next to the door.  As he sat up onto his knees he said, “I really kind of hate this.”</p><p>“You’re working too hard,” Helen reprimanded him. “Remember what I told you. You had it when you came in, and you lost it in the last half hour. In that time did you go into the bathroom or sit at the desk?”</p><p>“No,” Sam said. </p><p>“So why was the first place you looked the desk?”</p><p>“Because I always put my wallet on my desk.”</p><p>“Okay. That’s a fair point, but start where you know you’ve been then work from there. You do well with a grid search, but it’s the details that you have to think about.”</p><p>Sam sighed. “Okay. Again?”</p><p>She chuckled. “You’re getting the gist of this.” </p><p>They played the little game for the rest of their allotted time with progressively smaller objects. Each time, Helen offered critiques and advice on how to do it better the next time. When she finally called a halt, Sam was starting to be sick of crawling around on his knees, and his hands felt dusty from the questionable surfaces he’d reached under and behind. </p><p>Helen closed out the lesson as she always did, with a round of questions designed to make him think. As he took up his seat on the bed again, she sat down beside him and asked, “What do you think is the point in this exercise?”</p><p>Sam slumped down and huffed. These always felt like trick questions. “Finding lost items by searching smarter?”</p><p>“Some,” she allowed. “Yes, I want you to learn the best way to search for something you’ve lost, but you’ve actually got the basics down pretty well. Better than most people that come through here. That’s not the only thing though. Why do you think I give you the hints?”</p><p>Sam frowned. “It’s not to help?”</p><p>“No,” she said. “I’m not here to hand you answers. You won’t have me when you’re living on your own. I told you a likely story. You went shopping. After you paid, you put your change away in your pocket to be sorted later. When you get home, you notice it’s still in your pocket as you get your key out. After putting away your groceries you realize it’s no longer in there. It’s fallen out somewhere between the door and wherever you are when you make the discovery. If you stop and think, you know your path from the time you last remember having it. The most likely place is where?”</p><p>“By the door, when I pulled the keys out,” Sam said, having done exactly that a dozen times before. </p><p>“Exactly! And if it’s not there what do you do?”</p><p>“Retrace my steps into the kitchen.”</p><p>“That’s the point,” she said. She clapped her hands for emphasis. “You can’t do that if you don’t stop and think the problem through. You don’t have the luxury of being lazy anymore. It’s your job to keep up with all this information.”</p><p>Sam couldn’t help but chew on that last thought for the rest of the day, even as Rob was guiding him through how to cross the street on his own. While he managed not to get run over, his mind was a million miles away during that lesson, enough so that Rob called a halt to their session early and sent him off to get his head on straight before he had to talk to Kevin. </p><p>He hardly thought it fair that Helen would accuse him of being lazy. Sam worked his tail off. He had thought he was doing better, but he still hadn’t quite hit his stride yet. Every morning he still woke up expecting to see his room, but was met with the dullness of this new world around him. Every single day he had a dozen people pushing him and prodding him to do more and do it better. He hadn’t expected a lavish retreat, but he had expected to have a little room to breathe, given this all happened hardly a month ago. </p><p>In some ways it felt like forever since he’d seen anything other than the world of his dreams. In others it felt like it all happened yesterday. He was making progress. He could get around inside just fine and he was doing more every day, but he still felt timid and wobbly, like a baby taking its first steps. </p><p>He scrubbed a hand over his face and forced himself to walk the rest of the way to Kevin’s office. </p><p>Kevin was unusually quiet during their session, and it threw Sam off. Sam hadn’t really know what to say at the lack of any sort of prompt. Kevin did finally take mercy on him and asked, “What was it like growing up as a hunter?”</p><p>“You know,” he said with a shrug. “It was what it was. My dad was driven, if nothing else. We moved around a lot – never stayed in one place for very long. It meant my brother and I were pretty much as close as you could get. We usually made our own fun.” Sam let himself smile a little. “There was this one time while I was in high school when, believe it or not we didn’t actually go looking for a ghost but we found one anyway.”</p><p>Sam paused. Kevin usually liked to ask questions or comment as they talked, but he remained stubbornly quiet. Sam pressed on. “Some people at school kept going on about how there was this creepy house about a mile outside of town. My brother and I overheard them saying they were going to go up there and see if they could see anything. We’d already done some research on the place. It was just an old, abandoned house. Some lady had died in her sleep up there forever ago, but nothing crazy had ever verifiably happened. We figured they’d probably go up, get stoned, and scare themselves silly with stupid stories, you know? Just normal kid stuff. So we went up there and thought it’d be funny to mess with them a little. Just make noises, splash some corn syrup around.” </p><p>Sam shrugged. “We hid in the attic before they got there. Only after a few minutes we noticed in was getting really cold. I think we both realized something wasn’t right because we looked at each other, then turned around. There was this little old lady sitting in a rocking chair staring out the window. When she spotted us, she came flying. My brother nearly pushed me down the stairs trying to get away from her.”</p><p>“So what did you do,” Kevin asked. </p><p>“We hightailed it out of the house, told our father what had happened, and warned the kids that someone overheard them and planned to call the cops.”</p><p>“What did your dad do?”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “We took care of the spirit.”</p><p>Kevin shifted in his seat. He took his time, but finally asked, “What are you not telling me?”</p><p>Sam frowned. “Not much. That’s the short of it. Besides, the rest of that story is kind of a downer anyway.”</p><p>Across from him, Kevin sighed. It was such an odd reaction that Sam instinctively sat up a little straighter. When Kevin spoke again, he sounded almost frustrated. “Sam, this is something I want to make sure you know. As enlightening as some of our talks are, your job here isn’t to be entertaining or to worry about being a downer. Your job here is to face the things that are troubling you or holding you back.”</p><p>“And I get it. I do, but I don’t really know what you want me to say here. Besides, it was a downer because Dad got in trouble and we had to move again, not because anything went wrong with the haunted house.”</p><p>“Okay,” Kevin said seriously, leaning forward in his seat. “Normally, I don’t like to force things or be this direct, but I’m going to ask something of you. Before you answer out of hand, I want you to really think about what I’m ask you to do. Can you do that?”</p><p>Sam tensed. That sounded serious. “Okay,” he agreed.</p><p>“I want you to tell me one thing – any one thing – that you think you can’t share. I swear that anything you say right now will not leave this room. It won’t go to the police. It won’t get you sent to a psychiatric care facility. It won’t go to Dr. Singleton. It stays right here with us.”</p><p>“Except if I am a danger to myself or others or –“</p><p>“No, Sam. My one condition is that if someone else is in imminent harm I can’t sit by and do nothing, but unless you tell me you are going to go out and off yourself tonight, there’s not much you could tell me that I won’t take to my grave.”</p><p>Sam laughed humourlessly at that phrasing. </p><p>“I’m serious, Sam. I want to believe you are trying here, but you’ve got to give me something. Trust works both ways. I have to earn yours, but you’ve got to show a little in return to get anything out of this.”</p><p>“I thought I was here about my eyes.”</p><p>“I get the feeling your eyes are only a tiny piece in a much bigger chain of concerns. So, what do you say? One thing.”</p><p>Sam nearly growled. First he had Helen harping on him, now Kevin was picking at him. He just wanted to be left alone. Was that such a hard thing to ask? What exactly was he looking for anyway? Sam didn’t have any dark, hidden trauma. He dealt with his shit and moved on. None of this had ever helped before. </p><p>With a huff, he decided if Kevin wanted something heavy he could offer that. “Okay, one thing? Then here’s my one thing. I’ve been committed twice.”</p><p>Kevin didn’t respond to that statement. Sam felt himself getting twitchy in the silence that seemed to be stretching throughout this session. “The first time, it was to go undercover to solve a case that was happening in a mental facility. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. And the only thing I had to do to get in was tell the truth.”</p><p>“And the second?”</p><p>“I was…,” Sam hesitated, not sure how much to say. Ghosts and wendigos were one thing. Angels and apocalypses were another. </p><p>“The truth, Sam.”</p><p>Sam scowled, tired of this conversation. “I went to Hell on the personal invitation of the devil and his brother. I was stuck in a cage with two very sadistic, very pissed off angels who thought it was great fun to peel my skin from my muscles like you might peel an orange and then play with the raw nerves for days. When I got out, I kept having hallucinations. Something in my brain snapped. I kept thinking I was still there or I would see all the ways they would hurt me. I could feel it. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The doctors were basically waiting for me to die. I was there for weeks and all anyone could do was shove pills at me and give me concerned looks.”</p><p>“I take it they found a treatment?”</p><p>Sam scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yes. No. Sort of. It’s so very, very complicated.”</p><p>Kevin was quiet for a moment, although whether he was waiting to see if Sam was finished or just processing, Sam wasn’t sure. “Okay,” he said at last. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It helps. It really does.”</p><p>“How does that help?” Sam snapped.</p><p>“Now I understand a little better why this process seems to be so hard for you. And I understand that you have a bad history with mental health professionals. Both the scenarios you described are quite frankly appalling. I could tell even in our first interview that you were rational. Aside from a very niche set of circumstances, I would have been very suspicious of someone showing up and requesting admittance on the basis of reported delusions. </p><p>“I don’t condone the way your case sounds like it was handled the second time either, although I am well aware that sometimes our hands are tied. Interactions with your doctor are the first thing to set the tone for your recovery. Even if things had been going very, very badly, the fact that you knew they were just shoving meds at you shows a certain lack of professional decorum. It also means your treatment was likely doomed before it even began. I am very glad that whatever solution you found helped.”</p><p>Sam just nodded. He felt like he’d wrung all the words out of himself just to admit what he had. </p><p>“Can I ask a few questions?”</p><p>Sam nodded again.</p><p>“Have you ever had a history of hallucinations before that?”</p><p>“No. I had visions for a while when I was just out of college, but they were completely different.”</p><p>“Visions?”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “It’s a long story and while related, not really relevant.”</p><p>“Okay, have you had any since?”</p><p>“No. Or, well not like that. I get flashbacks sometimes.”</p><p>“Ah, that’s a little different,” Kevin said with approval. “Did anyone during your second stay come and talk to you or explain what was going on with your treatment?”</p><p>“No. Dean told me what the doctors were saying, but the only time I saw anyone who wasn’t a patient was when the nurses handed out medication.”</p><p>“Then as a professional, I’d like to apologize on behalf of my colleagues. That was a true disservice to your health and wellbeing.”</p><p>“You didn’t do it. And I don’t blame them.”</p><p>“Perhaps not. Still, I know trust is earned over time, but I’d like to say this. I will never do anything, not prescribe medication, not take additional steps, nothing that alters this dynamic without full disclosure and a discussion with you. I will always be honest with you about everything that’s going on.”</p><p>Sam didn’t know why that made him feel a little better. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that people lied all the time. </p><p>“But in the vein of being honest,” Kevin continued. “I will let you know that my practical knowledge of PTSD, while real, is very limited and in no way related to POW types of experiences, both of which it sounds like fit your situation well. One of our other counselors on staff, Linda Bergman, has much more experience with that particular set of issues. If you’d like I can arrange some time to speak with her and see if you feel it would be a better fit.”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “No. I’d rather not.”</p><p>“Okay. But,” here Sam could hear the smile creeping into his voice. “Don’t think that lets you off the hook here. I can be every bit as demanding as Helen and I expect you to continue to work with me.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said thinly. “I think I can live with that.”</p><p>“We’ve still got maybe ten minutes, but I think we’re at a stopping point for today. How would you like to wrap things up? Do you need a minute to process?”</p><p>Sam sat up and shifted in the deep leather chair. “I know it’s a little odd, but could you maybe just read?”</p><p>“Read?”</p><p>“Yeah. Like aloud?”</p><p>“I can do that. Any requests?”</p><p>“I don’t care. Anything.”</p><p>There was a scuffle as Kevin got up and moved around his office. He settled back down at his desk after a moment and cleared his throat. “<i>Chapter 1. In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since…</i>”</p><p>Sam let the words wash over him. It wasn’t as comforting as picking up the book himself, but in that moment he needed the distraction of language. He’d always found solace in hearing words put down by someone else some long time ago. Reading took him far away from the present and let him be someone else for a while. When their time was finally up he left feeling both more drained and more relaxed than he had in a while.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well my dears, here's another chapter. Sorry it's taking so long between times and thank you for everyone still reading! You guys are awesome. We have about three-ish more chapters here at Brookhaven then it's time for our little Sammy to go out into the big, bad world. </p><p>If anyone was curious, the quote is from Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. </p><p>As a point of interest, would anyone want to read all the stuff I've cut out? There was the wreck from Officer Pierson's PoV. Cas finding out about Sam from his perspective, the counselor who didn't know about hunting, and a half dozen little side events at Brookhaven. </p><p>Let me know in the comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. No one to Impress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas reached forward and stole a piece of Sam’s toast. The crust brushed against Sam’s knuckles as it was liberated from his plate. He could have probably stopped it if he wanted, but it was kind of nice. Instead, he grumbled at Cas for being awake and alert enough to be stealing toast at that time of the morning.</p><p>Cas wasn’t deterred in the least. “Just because you’re nocturnal doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.”</p><p>Sam grunted at that. He wasn’t wrong. Even now, weeks out from a hunt and following a routine that started somewhere around six o’clock, he still couldn’t begin to think about sleep until the early hours of the morning. He’d spent half the previous night lying awake in his bed. He kept thinking about what Helen had said. </p><p>He didn’t have the luxury of being lazy anymore. </p><p>Sam was a realist. He knew his strengths and he knew his weaknesses. He knew he tended to pull to the left when he was aiming his gun. He knew he was a thorough researcher. He knew he worried too much. He knew he could beat his brother at pool if he worked at it. And those were just the simple things. He’d spent years figuring out his faults. Some of them were just a part of him, for better or worse. </p><p>Sam had never called himself lazy. </p><p>He knew what Helen meant. Without his eyes, he was going to have to rely on memory and his critical thinking skills. Something about the comment though brought back all the years of fighting with his dad. John Winchester had accused Sam of blowing off training or research because he was selfish, lazy, and undisciplined. Sam had never been able to decide if he’d genuinely believed those thing or if he’d simply been trying to goad him into working harder to prove him wrong. </p><p>Sam had comforted himself as a kid by keeping a mental litany of all the things he could do. He doubted any other twelve year old was getting straight A’s, hitting a bullseye eight out of ten times, running ten miles a day before breakfast, researching obscure topics that occasionally weren’t in English, all while avoiding notice from CPS and well-meaning teachers. He had figured at the time that counted for something. He might not be Dean, taking care of a little brother or bringing in as much cash, but he could fend for himself and he had held onto that knowledge any time his dad started in on him. </p><p>What would Dad think of him now? True, he had helped save the world once or twice, but here he was. He had lost his brother, been injured in a frankly small time hunt, and now he was blind. He could hear the gruff tones of John’s voice echoing through the years as he reamed him out for being careless and not pulling his own weight.  </p><p>Sam was jerked from his thoughts when, after crunching on his pilfered toast for a quiet minute, Cas asked, “What do you expect us to do today?”</p><p>“I have no idea. Knowing Helen, probably something mortifying.”</p><p>“Sam, you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything.”</p><p>“You say that now,” Sam said as he speared a forkful of fruit from his bowl. He was all too aware that yesterday he’d been grubbing along on the floor for three hours. Just the memory of it made him scowl.</p><p>“You are going to have to do things differently now. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”</p><p>“I know,” Sam shrugged. He was about to change the topic to something less depressing when he caught the faint whiff of Helen’s perfume. </p><p>“Good morning,” she said brightly. Sam had noticed that she was always chipper. She was worse than Dean like that, and Sam was in no mood for it today. “Who do we have here?”</p><p>Helen settled into the seat next to Sam, a bit nearer than he might have liked. He could feel the light fabric of her shirt brushing against his bare arm. He shifted away under the pretense of turning to include her and gestured across the table towards Cas. “This is my cousin, Cas. Cas meet Helen, my life skills drill sergeant.”</p><p>“Alright cadet, watch the tone or you’ll be doing laps.”</p><p>Instead of replying, Sam busied himself with exploring the bottom of his bowl to make sure he had gotten all the fruit. It irked him to waste food and while he didn’t particularly care about breakfast, he knew he would probably need all the energy he could get for whatever the team was going to throw at them today. </p><p>Helen had paused, but when she didn’t get a response to her teasing she turned to address Cas directly. “I’m glad you could come today,” she said. Her tone was still light, but hints of her normal sternness were creeping back in. Trust Helen to dive in before breakfast was even finished. “We’re going to be working on ways you can help Sam effectively. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told him. Sam lives in a sighted world. That means he’s going to have to ask for help sometimes. That being said, he is probably going to be a lot more independent than you’re expecting. So you’re going to let Sam ask for what he needs and learn not to do it for him.” </p><p>“Come, on. Up,” she said, rising from her seat. “We’re going to be working in the kitchen for today’s lesson.”</p><p>Sam’s grip on his fork tightened. He was a disaster in the kitchen and that was even before everything had happened. “My brother once told me if I ever set foot in his kitchen again, he’d murder me,” Sam offered in a tired voice. Actually Dean had threatened to chain him up in the dungeon and leave him there for his own safety, but he didn’t feel inclined to explain why they had a dungeon and while Cas might not get the implicit sex joke in that, it surely wouldn’t escape Helen.</p><p>“It’s a good thing you won’t be in his kitchen then. We’re going to be in the teaching kitchen.” Helen rolled straight over his objections. When Sam didn’t offer anything more, she hesitantly asked, “Surely there’s something you know how to make.”</p><p>“I make salads,” Sam said, flatly. “And sandwiches. Maybe eggs.”</p><p>“Seriously? That’s just sad. You are a grown man. If you don’t know how to feed yourself at this point it’s just embarrassing. You’re going to learn. Now up,” she said as she pulled Sam to his feet. </p><p>Cas stood when he did and fell into step beside him. They traveled together down the hallway. It was nice to be able to walk alongside someone without having to be led. </p><p>They pushed into the kitchen through a set of swinging double doors that threatened to smack Sam in the face. He could immediately hear the difference in the space. It sounded open, although not as expansive as the dining hall.</p><p>Before he could go very far, Helen placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. “Here, I’ve got today’s challenge for you.”</p><p>Sam held his hand out when she said that. She placed what felt like a stiff sheet of cardstock onto his palm. Sam explored the card, but it remained stubbornly blank to him. “Not in Braille,” he observed.</p><p>“Walk before we run, Sam. Those lessons start tomorrow. No, this is a printed recipe. Technically three recipes. Your job is to fix us lunch for today. I’m mostly here to observe how it goes. I might step in occasionally to help you with some of the skills you might need, but otherwise you’re only going to have Cas. </p><p>“Cas, you’ve got one rule. You can only do what Sam asks you to. No describing anything unless he asks. No hints or pointers. You can talk about the weather if you want, but you can’t help. Got it?”</p><p>“Okay,” Cas said, sounding as intimidated by the task as Sam felt. Sam hesitated by the door, recipe sheet in his hand, and wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into today. It was all fine and good to know where his shirts were or how to vacuum the floor. He got how organizing his money would make his life easier and not spilling soup down his front was more pleasant for everyone. This just sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. </p><p>“I’m really not kidding about this being a bad idea,” Sam said as he moved forward, exploring the space and building up a mental map of the area. He found an island in the middle surrounded by stools and across from it, the stove range with some extra counter space to the side. He could hear the hum of the refrigerator coming from the corner near the door. He knew there must be a pantry, but it eluded him in his brief search.</p><p>He stood tense and nervous by the island for a long moment, debating where to start. How was he supposed to do anything in here? There was a list a mile long of ways he could injure himself or someone else with the equipment in this room. </p><p>Sam squared his shoulders. He was here. He had to at least try to do this. Helen hadn’t led him wrong yet.</p><p>“Sam, relax,” Cas said. He stepped further into the room and up to the central island, not far from Sam. “Think of it like a hunt. Just tell me what you need.”</p><p>Cas was right. Cooking was a lot like spell work if you really considered it, and at least nothing in here would explode in foul smelling goo if he got it wrong. Hopefully. “Alright,” he said. His hands were cramping from their hold on his cane. </p><p>He held out the sheet that Helen had given him towards Cas’s voice and smiled half-heartedly. “Can you look over the recipe card? What do I need to know?”</p><p>Cas studied the recipes for a long moment. Sam shifted in place as he waited. One thing he was growing to hate were these long, interminable pauses. Without anyone talking or moving, it felt like he was alone. He couldn’t read the nonverbal cues that he’d so easily taken in before, and it left him adrift in the middle of the room. </p><p>Finally, Cas cleared his throat before diving into a description of the printed sheet. Sam’s focus narrowed onto his voice as he tried to take in all the details he needed. Cas was basically just reading out the skeleton of the recipes, and it was too much to process all at once. “Wait, Cas.” </p><p>Cas broke off midsentence. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Can we slow down a little? I don’t…” Sam scowled. “Just let’s back up. I can’t remember all that in one go.”</p><p>Cas quietly shifted and Sam realized he must have sat down on one of the stools at the counter. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know what you would need to know.”</p><p>Sam took a slow breath in and leaned against the countertop. What did he need to know? If he was doing spell work for a hunt, first he’d find the spell, then he’d gather the ingredients and figure out the timing. After that he’d put it all together first in a test run then in real life. He had their equivalent of the spell with the recipe card. Presumably they had the ingredients, which only left the timing. “Prep and cook times if they’re listed,” he said at last. </p><p>Cas read out the information and Sam began assembling a mental timeline. It sounded like an hour’s worth of work at most, but he knew it would take him at least twice that long to put it together. This session was three hours long. He could make spaghetti and meatballs in three hours. </p><p>He smiled a little, thinking about how Dean would grumble over his next decision. There was something missing from this plan and it was the one thing he knew he could actually make. He tilted his head and asked, “Is the kitchen fully stocked? Is there anything we can’t use?”</p><p>Helen spoke from a spot by the door. “You can use anything in here. Why?”</p><p> “That’s a lot of carbs. It would be nice to have something green to go with it.” He turned back to Cas. “Let’s make a salad. We should do that first since it’ll keep in the fridge.”</p><p>Decision made, Sam straightened and made his way to the refrigerator. He opened the door. The cool air washed over him. He reached a hand forward until his fingers found the first shelf. He gave it a cautious scan but mostly found paper cartons. He dropped his hand down, reaching for the bins that usually resided at the bottom for the vegetables. </p><p>He found the crisper drawers and pulled them open. In one he brushed over something leafy. It wasn’t the tight head he was expecting, but he thought it might still be lettuce. Under that he found what he was pretty sure was a cucumber and a bag of carrots. </p><p>Sam pulled them all out and turned back to the island with his haul balanced in his arms. He laid them out in order as he said, “Lettuce, cucumber, and carrots, right?”</p><p>“Yes,” Cas said. </p><p>Sam faltered. He knew what he wanted to do, but it seemed exceptionally complex without his sight. How was he supposed to find what he needed? Across the island from him, Cas rose to his feet. As he did, Helen tutted. “Plant your butt back on that stool unless Sam tells you otherwise.”</p><p>“Surely it makes more sense for me to help than to sit on a stool. I am perfectly capable of gathering the items we need for this task.”</p><p>“This isn’t about you. Sam can decide for himself if he needs help. Sit.”</p><p>There was a soft thump as Cas settled himself back on his stool. Sam ignored the conversation. </p><p>He knew he’d need a bowl, a cutting board, and a knife. He just had no idea where to look for any of that. He frowned, thinking back to Dean’s space at home. Bowls were likely in a cabinet somewhere. He made his way back to the counters beside the stove and reached an inquisitive hand up. He found the cabinet and began searching one by one. He huffed in frustration, only finding small table bowls. “Where would you keep a salad bowl?”</p><p>“Cabinet under the counter to the left of the stove,” Helen said. Dean kept pots and pan in the under-counter cabinets. He located the bowl and set it on the table. The cutting board, equally eluded him and he had to ask, but the knives he found in a butcher block with a quick sweep of the countertop. He brought everything to the open work space and gathered up the lettuce to wash. That done, he picked up his knife and frowned, thinking. He wasn’t a stranger to using a knife in the dark, but normally that was to attack, not to chop. While he was good at knowing where his limbs were in space, he didn’t want to chop off his fingers and he didn’t want to ask Cas to do it for him.</p><p>“Okay, Helen,” he said finally. “I’m not so sure about this part. What’s the best way not to lose my finger?”</p><p>She came to stand next to him and took the knife. She spent a minute showing him how to feel for the sharp edge by pushing the broad side gently across his palm and how to store it under his cutting board so he wouldn’t accidentally cut himself on the exposed blade. She talked him through tucking his thumb and using his fingers as a guide until he was chopping his vegetables into manageable pieces. It might not have been a salad worthy of Martha Stuart, but it was edible, and the small success made the bigger hurdles like working with a stove feel a bit more manageable. </p><p>There was something rather exposing about having Helen teach him how to chop vegetables like he was a kid again in front of an angel who was presumably old enough to have witnessed creation. It seemed like something that would be so far beneath Cas’s notice as to be completely pointless, but Cas surprised him. Sam figured if anything was going to hammer home just how lost of a cause he was, it would be a day spent seeing all the ways he was having to learn to compensate. Instead, Cas asked as many questions as Sam did. At one point Helen even invited him to work beside them. </p><p>“Stand here,” she said. Sam felt Cas move up beside him and pushed the chopping mat across to rest more in front of the angel. “Okay. Close your eyes and hold out your hand. I’m going to show you what I was telling Sam about feeling for the sharp edge of the blade.”</p><p>There was a short pause where Sam could hear the metal rasping against Cas’s palm under Helen’s guidance. Sam leaned up against the island where they were working. He propped his elbow on the countertop and rested his chin in his hand as he listened to Helen walk Cas through the same steps she’d just shown him. After a moment, Cas made several short chops, each one landing with a solid thump as he pushed the knife through the cucumber. </p><p>“That was disconcerting,” Cas said. He stepped back, giving Sam free reign of the counter again. Cas had immediately sat down after his turn with the knife and seemed to regard the whole lesson with a new seriousness. </p><p>With the salad made, they moved on to the more important elements of their lunch. Thanks to Cas’s help he found the hamburger and made the meatballs. As he was rolling them and placing them on the sheet, he offered the bowl to Cas. “Come on. If I have to put my hands in this, then so do you. It’s about like making cookies.”</p><p>Cas obliged, picking up the meat and rolling it between his hands. “You hated my cookies.”</p><p>Sam laughed, remembering that disastrous culinary misadventure. “Mint and orange just aren’t meant to go together like that,” he said. The cookies had tasted like furniture polish and had been nearly impossible to eat.</p><p>Sam rolled the last ball and placed it on the tray. He covered it over with plastic wrap and carried it to the fridge to keep while they made the sauce. He paused long enough to have Cas read the next set of ingredient then began to gather them. He even managed to get the pasta mostly made, only needing to have Cas help him line up the pasta maker on the stand mixer. </p><p>In the end, he sat down with Cas and Helen and enjoyed his meal. </p><p>“Cas,” Helen said as they polished off the last of their pasta. Sam knew that tone. She was about to do her recap that so often made Sam rethink their entire session. Sam leaned back and waited to hear how Cas would answer, curious despite himself. “What did you think of this morning’s exercise?”</p><p>“I was impressed by how much progress Sam has made,” Cas said, earnestly. Sam felt his ears heating at the observation. “He’s much more confident than he was just last week.”</p><p>“Did you find it difficult to step back?”</p><p> “In some ways, I suppose. Sam has always been very independent. He rarely asks for help even when he needs it. I was more surprised that he did ask.”</p><p>Before Sam could retort, Helen turned to him and asked, “And Sam? How did you feel you handled when you needed help?”</p><p>Sam took a moment to gather his thoughts. Finally, he said, “I’m glad Cas was there. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. On the other hand, I see what would need to change to make it manageable for being on my own.”</p><p>“Good. Next time we’ll really dig into some techniques and introduce you to some helpful tools. Once I clear you, you’ll be able to come down here and practice on your own, but not a moment before I say. You did well today, but you’ve got a ways to go.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” Sam said. He realized he really meant it. It would be nice to be more confident in the kitchen. He could hardly believe that there might be something he could be better at after losing his sight. </p><p>“So my turn,” Helen continued. “From what I observed, you two work well together. Cas, I’d suggest being a little more willing to ask Sam if there are ways you can help. Being hands off is fine – preferred even in certain situations – but if you know there are things that Sam might not know, it’s okay to offer that help as long as you are offering and not doing. Sam, you’re going to have to learn that sometimes it’s just easier to try and mess up. Being a bit more hands on is okay for you, too. You can taste and touch a lot more than you did. A little bit of finger in the soup isn’t going to hurt anyone.”</p><p>Sam felt his cheeks going red. “I didn’t want to just stick my hands in something that might get used to feed more than just us.”</p><p>They cleared up, and Helen sent them on to their next session. Sam took the lead and made his way to the open workroom that Rob usually met him in. It reminded Sam a bit of a gymnastics room, with soft mats that could be spread on the floor and moveable equipment that could be pulled out for various exercises. Cas kept up with him, quiet in the wake of Helen’s company. </p><p>Rob met them at the door with an easy greeting. “Hey, Sam. Helen said you’d be bringing a guest today.”</p><p>Sam took a moment to introduce them and heard them shifting to shake hands. “I’m glad you could come,” Rob said. “I’ve got a bit of a day planned for us.”</p><p>Sam groaned. “You only say that when I’m going to be bruised tomorrow.”</p><p>“It builds character.”</p><p>“I’ve got plenty of character,” Sam huffed. “Trust me.”</p><p>“Well today your bruises are going to depend on your cousin,” Rob said. Something in his tone was just a shade off. Sam was forcibly reminded of a mischievous Dean trying not to grin and give himself away while pulling a prank. “We’re going to play a little game. Think of it like an obstacle course.”</p><p>Sam frowned. Normally Helen was the one who framed their lessons as a game. Rob was usually more practical about his approach. “Okay. What aren’t you telling me?”</p><p>“You’re handing over your cane for the next three hours.”</p><p>Sam stiffened, his hands clenching around the handle of his cane as though he were afraid Rob would try to forcibly take it from him. “Wait, what?”</p><p>“Yep,” Rob said brightly. “Remember when we were working on how to walk with someone? This is the next step. Cas here is going to be your guide. We’re going to put both of you through your paces.”</p><p>“But Cas has already been guiding me.”</p><p>“Yes, and I’m sure he’s done fine with it, but we’re going to work on that whole working together thing. To that end I’ve set up a course. Cas, you’re going to guide Sam from one end to the other and back. But there’s a catch; you can’t describe the course ahead of time or the general layout. Now, before we do that, we’re going to go over some basics about the best ways to navigate when you’re leading someone. We’ll practice before I turn you loose.”</p><p>“Okay,” Cas said. He even sounded a little excited. Sam wasn’t sure how he felt. He trusted Cas. He knew his friend wouldn’t intentionally lead him astray but it was going to be frightening to try and go without his cane. It already felt like a part of him at this point.</p><p>Rob tapped his elbow. “Come on Sam. I’ll keep it safe. Trust me a little here. I promise you’ll be fine.”</p><p>Sam bit his lip but collapsed the cane and handed it over. </p><p>“Don’t pout. Think of it as another training exercise. What if something happens to your cane? What if you’re in an environment where you can’t carry it? What if you need to direct someone in the best way to lead you? We’re just building another skill set to help you navigate out there.”</p><p>“I know. I just don’t like being without it.”</p><p>“You’ll get used to that too. Now come on,” Rob said, turning to Cas. “Let’s talk about signaling that you want Sam to take your arm.”</p><p>Thus began an hour and half of guided practice where Sam learned the ins and outs of what a knowledgeable guide would be able to do. He relaxed into the work. If it had been anyone other than Cas, he would have been so on edge that he would have probably hurt himself, but Cas made him feel safe. By the time Rob let them try the full run of the course, Sam had fallen back into the conditioned mindset of training. It was a different type of skill, true, but the physicality of learning it wasn’t so foreign to him. </p><p>The course was demanding in a way that Sam hadn’t expected. He’d figured there would be some small steps and maybe something low that he would have to duck under. Instead, they’d done a full flight of stairs, crossed uneven ground, walked a seesaw, navigated under some sort of low hanging fabric, balanced across a narrow ledge, and bridged some sort of gap that Sam hadn’t gotten a good sense of. There had been a narrow doorway and even a rope swing. Sam had actually worked up a sweat, mostly because he couldn’t tackle it without thinking about running drills as a kid which made him want to sprint. Cas had caught on to his urgency and had accommodated. </p><p>About halfway through, Rob called out, “Whoah. Sam, what’s going on? You don’t get extra points for finishing fastest.”</p><p>Sam had frozen where he stood on a board. He took stock. He was breathing hard and his arms had started to accumulate sweat from his quick pace. He forced himself to shake out his muscles and relax a little. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Nothing. I’ll slow down.”</p><p>“It’s just,” Rob said as he moved to stand next to them. “The point is to find your rhythm and let Cas guide you, not storm the beaches of Normandy. What’s going through your head?”</p><p>Sam’s shoulders dropped. “It’s nothing, really. My dad was an ex-marine and he used to set drills up sort of like this for me and my brother. Loser had to do pushups. I hadn’t thought about it in years, but like I said, old habits die hard.”</p><p>“Okay,” Rob said. “Honestly, I don’t know how to respond to that. Do you want to stop?”</p><p>“What? No. It’s fine. I just got carried away. Sorry, Cas.”</p><p>“You don’t have to apologize. I never directly met your father, but he was certainly known for being intense.”</p><p>Sam laughed. “Yeah. That’s one way of putting it.”</p><p>“Sam,” Cas said quietly as Rob moved back to his spot by the door. “I know he pushed you and Dean hard. Are you sure this is okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine. Seriously. I promise I’ll let you set the pace this time.”</p><p>When Rob signaled them, they took off again, this time at something closer to a stroll. Sam let himself fall into step with Cas and trusted the other to lead him forward. It was easy and becoming more natural the longer they practiced. It was certainly a lot less hesitant than it had been at the hospital. </p><p>At the end Rob asked him, “So how do you feel about sighted lead?”</p><p>“Honestly? I’d rather use the cane, but I’m glad I know what to expect. And I trust Cas. It’s a relief to know that we have a solid system in place.”</p><p>“And Cas? How do you think it went?”</p><p>“It was enlightening. I was not sure what to expect, but I agree that it is a bit of a relief knowing that we can work together if we need to. Although I can see why it might make Sam nervous to be dependent on that mode of travel.”</p><p>“Good. Sounds like it was educational for everyone. Sam, remember it’s not a race. You don’t have anyone to impress besides yourself.”</p><p>Sam nodded. If he had a dollar for every time Rob had told him that, he wouldn’t need that fake credit card sitting in his wallet upstairs. As he was collecting his cane, something else occurred to him. “Rob? I just realized, I have my session with Kevin next. Is he expecting Cas?”</p><p>“Yep. Anytime we ask you to bring someone along, we all know that they will be there for the day.”</p><p>Sam nodded. He shook out his cane and turned to go, acknowledging Rob’s goodbye with a wave of his hand. Cas was already waiting for him at the door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh no! I am sooo sorry guys. There's so much happening right now and I have not had nearly the time that I should to sit down and write. I hope a double chapter makes up for it a little.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Nothing Tainted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So what do you think so far,” Sam asked. They were ambling down the hallway towards Kevin’s office. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to check in with Cas and maybe delay the inevitable a little longer. Sam was intensely aware of the fact that he had laid some very personal things bare last session, and he wasn’t sure what was waiting for him.</p><p>“I am impressed.”</p><p>Sam quirked his eyebrow. “Really? With which part?”</p><p>“You, Sam. I knew you were working hard and that the point was to learn to adapt, but I wasn’t sure what shape that would take.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I’m just glad to see the progress you’ve made. Thank you for inviting me today.”</p><p>“Of course, Cas. I wanted you here.”</p><p>As they drew closer to Kevin’s door, Sam’s steps slowed. He paused just outside the door. “So, I think I mentioned that Kevin knows what we do. I haven’t shared the whole story yet, but he’s pretty good at rolling with just about anything I tell him.”</p><p>“Is there something I should know?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Then why are you stalling?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Sam said as he fingered his cane in his hand. He let it tap on the ground in a mindless gesture as he thought about the question. “Just nervous I guess.”</p><p>Cas laid a tentative hand on his elbow. The touch was light, just a small point of warmth against his skin. “Would you like me to sit this one out? I understand if this is personal.”</p><p>Sam straightened and shook his head. “No, let’s do this.” Before he could chicken out, he reach up and knocked. Kevin’s muffled call for him to enter filtered through the wood. Sam opened the door and slipped in, letting Cas follow him.</p><p>“Hello, Sam. And this must be Cas! Don’t trip. I’ve pulled up a second chair beside the normal one. The couch is still along the wall if that would be more comfortable since we have an extra person.”</p><p>Sam strode into the room. He took a moment to search out the second chair with his cane, then sank into the comfortable leather that he’d become accustomed to. The sofa always reminded him of daytime soap operas where rich people lounged on settees in expensive clothing and talked about their mothers. He had no idea what the couch in Kevin’s office looked like, but something about it felt too melodramatic for the work they were doing. Besides, sitting on a couch left him with a lot of open space. He liked the closed in feeling of the wrap around back on the chair. </p><p>Kevin’s chair creaked as he sat back. It seemed like the kind of thing he might leave so that his patients could follow his movements better. “We’re going to approach this a little differently. Since I’m sure this is odd for you both, I’m going to direct us a little bit to start.”</p><p>Sam nodded. He felt the shift in the air as Cas came to sit beside him. There was another long pause as he situated himself before Kevin asked, “So, Cas. Have you ever been to therapy?”</p><p>“No.” Cas’s deep voice gave the word a bit of extra gravity. “I understand the concept of counselling, but I’ve never seen any of it in practice.”</p><p>“Can you elaborate?”</p><p>“I’ve never sought out a therapist myself, but I understand that they are doctors for the mind. Sam and Dean have both explained what’s involved a little.”</p><p>Sam was content to let them talk for the moment. The longer he went without drawing attention to himself the better. Kevin’s voice took on the same tone he used when Sam had said something, usually about hunting, that he didn’t quite follow and he was trying to fit together the pieces. He could imagine Kevin frowning a little. “Haven’t you ever seen a therapist on TV?”</p><p>“No,” Cas said. “I don’t really watch TV, although I’ve had a lot of that downloaded if you will.”</p><p>Sam smiled as Kevin made a questioning noise. Sam jumped in to keep the conversation from circling. Cas could be maddeningly opaque sometimes. “Kevin, Cas is short for Castiel. He’s an angel, and well, he’s millennia old. He speaks every language on earth except Dean’s native pop culture references.”</p><p>“Ah. And the two of you are close?”</p><p>“He’s family.”</p><p>“Well then, Cas,” Kevin said, reorienting the conversation in light of the new information. “My job here is to help Sam work through whatever it is he needs to work through. My ultimate goal to make the transition easier and to help with processing everything that is happening, but I’m here for anything that Sam, or the two of you in this case, want to work through.”</p><p>“Ok,” Cas sounded a little uncertain.</p><p>“Hey, it’s okay. This can be a confusing time. Sam, is there anything in particular you want to address while Cas is here?”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “Not in particular. I guess this was a little bit of a surprise for me too.”</p><p>“That’s fine. Why don’t we do this; let’s start with the obvious and go from there. Cas, how are you feeling about all this?”</p><p>“All this,” Cas asked. His confusion colored his response. Sam pictured him studying Kevin with his head cocked to the side like he did when he didn’t quite understand something about humans.</p><p>“About Sam’s blindness,” Kevin clarified.</p><p>Cas shifted in his seat. His elbow brushed against Sam’s, and Sam realized just how close the chairs were for the first time. “It just is.”</p><p>“True, but when you first heard the news, what was your reaction?”</p><p>“Surprise.”</p><p>“Okay, and why was that?”</p><p>“Sam had failed to mention it.”</p><p>Sam couldn’t help but be a little amused at the spiraling conversation. It felt like he was watching a ping-pong match. It was times like this that made him forget how old Cas really was. In some ways he seemed younger than Sam. </p><p>“Time out. Cas, Kevin is looking for you to elaborate a little. Remember when Dean started having you talk things out after the leviathan? That’s what Kevin is asking for here.</p><p>“Kevin, remember Cas is not fully human. He understands more and more every day and he is one of the best people you’ll ever meet, but sometimes you have to explain what you’re getting at because he doesn’t have the same frame of reference we do.”</p><p>The room fell quiet. Finally Cas said, “Sam called me and said he was in the hospital. My first thought was that it was serious and he needed healing. He claimed that wasn’t it. He just needed to ‘hear a friendly voice.’ Our conversation ended abruptly and I was both worried and curious, so I decided to go and see if there was anything I could do.”</p><p>“You sound a little unsure of that conversation. Was there something unsettling about it?”</p><p>“No. I’ve just never really been someone people call for emotional support.”</p><p>“That’s not true.” Sam shifted in his chair so he could speak more directly to Cas. “Dean and I both turn to you for that sort of thing.”</p><p>“And I’ve only known you for a brief moment of time compared to the rest of my life.”</p><p>“Sometimes,” Sam said, slowly. He wanted to find the right words for this. “Sometimes it’s just nice to know that there are people out there in the world that know you and care about you and your problems. I know Dean and I are not always great at reciprocating. It’s something I’m trying to get better at.”</p><p>“I know. I think you give yourself too little credit.”</p><p>Sam shrugged, but he didn’t really have a response. They had failed Cas a lot. He wanted to be able to say it would never happen again, but he also knew that their lives were more complex than that. He wouldn’t make a promise he couldn’t keep. </p><p>“So, Sam,” Kevin said. “Tell me what was going on for you during that call.”</p><p>“The doctor had just been in with me and told me that this could very well be permanent. It took me those three days to work up the courage to make the call. I knew couldn’t dump one more burden in Cas’s lap, so I decided I would just do it the old fashioned Winchester way. I told Cas I’d call him when I was out of the hospital. I wasn’t expecting him to come.”</p><p>“So, wait. You didn’t mention that you were blind?”</p><p>“No,” Sam said, his cheeks heating. “I planned to get out of the hospital and get back on my feet, then explain what had happened. I didn’t want to be a liability or a burden any more than I had to be.”</p><p>“Why do you think you would have been a burden?”</p><p>“I’m a hunter. I make enemies. Our job requires us to be in full possession of all our faculties. Like this I’m less than useless. When it first happened, I could barely feed myself and get dressed, much less cross the street. Anyone who stepped in to help was going to be stuck taking care of me until I could figure some of it out. Plus Cas isn’t doing so well. I couldn’t add to his problems.”</p><p>“And Cas? What’s your reaction to that?”</p><p>Cas was already talking before Kevin even finished. “Sam, you are not a problem or a burden to me. You and your brother may make me I believe the phrase is bat shit crazy sometimes, but I care about you both deeply. I want to be there when something happens. I may not be able to heal you, but I can help.”</p><p>Sam felt something swell in his chest. Statements of unwavering support were not things he got very often. “Thanks, man.”</p><p>“It’s nothing to thank me for.”</p><p>“So what happened next?” When neither of them answered, Kevin prompted, “Cas? What was your initial reaction, beyond surprise?”</p><p>“I was,” Cas drew out the moment as though he were looking for the right word. “Sad. I believe that’s right.”</p><p>“Sad,” Kevin asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Cas said with more confidence. “Sam is strong and independent. He has overcome so much. It seemed extremely unfair that yet another hurdle had been placed in his path. And I understood that he hadn’t wanted me to know and that made me sad as well. I know that I have struggled recently, but that is no reason that I wouldn’t want to be present.”</p><p>“Cas, I’m sorry. I know you would want to know. I was just worried about adding one more thing to your plate.”</p><p>“Sam,” Kevin interjected. “If your roles had been reversed. If you found out Cas was in the hospital somewhere and then discovered that he had been injured in a life altering way, what would you do?”</p><p>“Haul ass,” Sam said without hesitation.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because Cas is part of our small family and he’s important. I want to be there for him, even if all I can really do is sit with him.”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Remember when I said we were going to focus on stepping back and seeing if your expectations and thoughts matched reality? This is one of those times. You are looking at it like you’re value lies in hunting and being able bodied, but you just told me that wouldn’t have been the case if your places had been swapped. That’s not how you think of Cas is it?”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Why do you assume that’s how Cas thinks of you?”</p><p>Sam let that thought settle with him. Cas had never implied that Sam’s worth was tied to his usefulness. Just the opposite. He had been there when Sam had been at some of his lowest points and had been supportive each time. “I don’t think that’s how Cas sees me. Not really.”</p><p>“Then where does that belief come from?”</p><p>“I guess that’s just how I’ve always seen myself.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” When Sam bit his lip, debating whether he could just not answer, Kevin hurried to add, “Remember what I said yesterday about trust. You can think of this as today’s one thing.”</p><p>Sam pushed himself back into the chair, folding his arms across his chest. How did he explain years of conditioning and family expectations? How did he condense down decades of experience into a coherent answer? It felt like striking out into the hallway that first time after he’d been blinded. He was searching for the right thing to say as he went. </p><p>“My father raised us in this life,” Sam said at last. “Even when I tried to run from it, I knew that my worth in the family was based on what I could do and how well I could do it. One fuck up and Dad or Dean could be killed or horribly injured. One slip up in school and then there were concerned teachers and potentially CPS. When I decided I couldn’t live like that, I got out the only way I knew how. I studied. I got a full ride to Stanford, but that was by merit of what I had proven I was capable of. My one ticket out depended entirely on how hard I worked and how good I could be. </p><p>“When I lost that, I was back in hunting.” Sam gripped his own arms tightly. Even years later, he could still smell the smoke as his entire monster-free future went up in flames. “My relationship with Dean was rocky at best. Between being three years out of practice and grieving for Jessica, I was a liability for most of that first year, but I never forgot that both our safety rested on how well I could do this job. </p><p>“Then the stakes got bigger and the consequences for messing up multiplied. If you trust the wrong person on a vampire hunt, a good hunter could die or be turned. If you trust the wrong person when the devil himself is in play, entire towns get wiped from the map. There’s not a lot of room for fucking up in that. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve screwed up a lot along the way, and I have to bear the burden of all of those consequences. Every single one of them.” </p><p>Sam huffed. A laugh that wasn’t a laugh scraped at his throat at the thought of everything he’d done through the years. “You know, I thought I had been absolved. After the cage and the trials, I felt like I had finally served my time for all those wrongs and been purified, but the more I’ve seen and done the more I believe there is no absolution. There’s just a list of hurts. There’s the things that I’ve done to hurt others and the things that have hurt me and they aren’t like some kind of cosmic ledger book. Nothing cancels anything else out. It just is.”</p><p>His words were met with silence. Even he needed a moment to absorb what he had just said. The quiet in the room didn’t feel clean or healing. It felt oppressive, as though he’d just spoken a weight on his shoulders into existence. </p><p>Cas broke the unbearable heaviness. “I think you forget that we’ve all made mistakes. I know you carry the weight of yours and some of them were heavy, but not one of us is perfect. For every mistake you’ve made, I can name one of my own that rivals it. I can name one of Dean’s. Somehow you are so quick to forgive both of us but you never forgive yourself. I still don’t understand that.”</p><p>“I set Lucifer free.” Sam offered up the fact partly as justification and partly as a reminder. It was the simplest and heaviest of his sins. </p><p>“No,” Cas said, firmly. “You broke the final seal, which you were tricked into doing. You forget that Dean broke the first and there were sixty four others. Worse still you forget that everything about that was manipulated by both heaven and hell to come to pass.”</p><p>“But in the end I was the one that broke the last one, and it ended in so many lives lost.”</p><p>“You’re assuming that no one would have gone after Lilith. If it hadn’t been you that night, it would have been one of us. And if we are comparing unleashed evils, I believe you forget it was I who set free the leviathan.”</p><p>Sam frowned. “I wish you had listened to us, but you did everything in your power to make it right. You helped put that back in the box. You survived purgatory and Naomi’s mind-fuck.”</p><p>“And you dove headfirst into the cage. Willingly. I had no idea what was going to happen. You also neglect the fact that some of the worst harms were done to you by my hand.”</p><p>Sam scowled. “What are you even talking about?”</p><p>“Don’t try to spare me in this. I saw the look you gave me when I first shook your hand, I could feel your awe and your hurt. I was the one who set you loose as you were detoxing. I was the one who pulled you back from the cage soulless. I was the one who tore down the wall in your mind. I was the one who nearly killed you after purgatory.”</p><p>“Okay, the wall was a dick move even I admit, but you were still on the Michael train at that point. You were trying to save me when you pulled my body from the cage. That place was built to hold souls not bodies, at least not human ones. The fact that you risked your life means more than you probably know. And you took on that tattered piece of grace that had lodged itself in my mind. You’ve made mistakes, sure, but you always made it right as best you could.”</p><p>“So have you.”</p><p>Sam had no response to that. He liked that Cas felt that way, but it didn't change the fact that his hands were far from clean. </p><p>“Sam,” Kevin said. Sam jerked his head towards him. He had completely forgotten Kevin was even in the room. “Why don’t you believe you can be forgiven for any of these things?”</p><p>“Because I’m wrong,” Sam said quietly. “I’m the rot at the center of the apple. There’s something dark and tainted about me. There always has been.”</p><p>Kevin drew in a breath as if to speak. Instead, Cas reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “Did I tell you that I held your soul once?”</p><p>Sam sat up. “No. You did?”</p><p>“I held it in my hands. You have to understand, a soul is a person laid bare. It is their entire being. I never said anything, because I was afraid I had overstepped. </p><p>“Your brother’s soul is bright, like a beacon. I never lost sight of it when I was sent to pull him from hell. It can burn so bright, but there’s something hard to bear about looking directly at it for too long. It’s like staring into oncoming headlights. Yours is softer. It glows more like an ember. Where Dean’s can be harsh, yours is gentle. Where Dean’s burns everything in its path, yours warms everything around it. I could see everything in it, from your stubbornness to your kindness. There was nothing tainted about it.”</p><p>“But you said I was an abomination,” Sam said desperately. He blinked hard. He could feel the sting of tears in eyes. His entire life he’d believed he was marked right down to his very core. He had been the curse that kept coming back to chip away at their family.</p><p>“In the eyes of heaven, you are. So am I. In some ways so is Dean.”</p><p>“I have demon blood inside me.”</p><p>“That affects you physically it’s true, but has no bearing on your soul.” Cas’s tone was so serious it hurt to hear. </p><p>Sam fell quiet, digesting what Cas has said. Cas claimed to have seen the essence of his entire being and not found anything twisted or evil. Sam wanted to believe that Cas had simply told him what he wanted to hear, but he knew from experience that Cas didn’t lie about things like this. He wasn’t able to. </p><p>Cas’s hand jerked when the alarm chimed from Kevin’s desk, but he didn’t break the contact. The warmth of the touch was reassuring. It meant Cas was there with him. Despite himself, Sam laid his own hand over Cas’s. </p><p>“That’s the five minute warning and a good place to stop for today,” Kevin said, his voice soft in deference to the turn the session had taken. “I know this was a lot, but it was a good beginning. How would you like to close out the session?”</p><p>Sam felt like someone had scoured his nerves with steel wool. He needed a moment to breathe and catch up with everything that had happened today. He needed to retreat for a minute. “Could we do another chapter?”</p><p>“Chapter,” Cas asked.</p><p>“Kevin started reading <i>The Great Gatsby</i> yesterday.”</p><p>“Ah. Would you like me to read?”</p><p>Sam nodded, offering Cas a small smile. “Sure, if that’s okay with Kevin.”</p><p>“Be my guest. I’m going to work through some paperwork. Take all the time you need.”</p><p>There was a shuffle, and Cas rearranged himself. <i>“I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby’s house I was one of the few invited...”</i></p><p>Sam relaxed into Cas’s reading. It was soothing in a way Kevin’s hadn’t been. Cas’s deep voice lulled him into a quiet calm. It was familiar and comforting, like wrapping up in a blanket on a cold evening. When they left, Sam wasn’t sure what he thought of everything Cas had said in the session. He focused instead on Cas’s steady presence at his elbow as they walked back towards his room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello all,</p><p>Normally, I don’t do this kind of thing. I come to fanfiction as an escape and I try to respect that for other people as well, so I’m not going to talk about all that’s happening in the world right now. Instead, I want to leave you with one message. In this volatile time of change we are living through, I just want to say that each and every one of you matters. Whether you are out protesting, keeping us safe and healthy, or just surviving each day, you are amazing and necessary. </p><p>People like Sam – the ones who are a little broken and very human and who make mistakes along the way but keep fighting regardless – those are the people I admire. That said, the Sam in this story has a lot of growing left to do. He has a tendency to push down his feelings and his responses to trauma and just soldier on because it’s what he feels he has to do. Please don’t be like Sam. I think everyone in this world is hurting a little bit right now and that’s okay. Just remember there are people out there who care. If you are hurting or scared or just very, very confused right now, I want to encourage you to reach out to someone. It can be a friend (online or rl), a relative, a therapist, or an online support group, just as long as you get the love and support you need. We can all be heroes, but each and every one of us sometimes needs some support. </p><p>Remember: always keep fighting. </p><p>Love you all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Gaining Ground</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam found himself making his way down the sidewalk in the pre-dawn light to meet Helen for their last session. It was an odd mix of diffused light from the encroaching sunrise and the glow from streetlights that hadn’t quite shut off yet. He was keeping careful count of every intersection until he found the one that he was looking for. Even as he crossed the street, he could smell the alluring scent of rich, freshly roasted coffee. He made his way up the three steps and through the door. A small bell tinkled overhead as he stepped into the shop, and the delicious smell of baking treats filled his nose. </p><p>“Sam!” Helen’s voice called from further back inside the restaurant. “We’re back here. Fifth booth in. There’s three tables between you and the wall.”</p><p>Sam navigated around the tables and over to the row of booths. He let his hand skim the backs of the seats, counting as he passed tables. As he drew even with the fifth, he paused and asked, “Is that a royal we?”</p><p>“No,” Rob said from Sam’s left. “It’s a team breakfast. It’s about time too. Helen wouldn’t let me order until you got here.”</p><p>Sam frowned and slid into the booth next to Rob. “I thought you had another session in the mornings. How’d you get roped into this?”</p><p>“First of all, it’s still early. Second, I’m getting a new resident today. They won’t check in until mid-morning so I won’t see them until this afternoon.”</p><p>“So no session today?”</p><p>Helen laughed across from him. “Don’t worry, Sam. We’ve got plenty planned for you.”</p><p>“You know, I’m a little worried that you’re both in on whatever this is.”</p><p>Before Helen could answer, someone walked up to the side of the table. A chipper, young waitress introduced herself and rattled off the special for the morning so fast Sam could barely keep up. They all placed their orders and in no time, there was a steaming cup of morning coffee in front of Sam. He took a grateful sip off of it, not caring if it burnt his tongue. </p><p>Helen and Rob chatted as Sam felt himself becoming more human. By the time his plate of eggs arrived, he felt like he was awake enough to ask, “So what’s all this about?”</p><p>Rob swallowed his own mouthful. “You told me you went to college for a while, right?” He said it as though that explained everything.</p><p>“Yes.” Sam wasn’t entirely sure what that had to do with anything. Was college supposed to make him psychic? He winced at the thought. That wasn’t an experience he wanted to revisit anytime soon. </p><p>“Well, think of today like your final exam. Don’t worry, this isn’t the kind of exam you can really fail. You’re going to have to problem solve on your own.” </p><p>“If you got me up at five in the morning just to be cryptic, I’m going back to bed.”</p><p>“Relax. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to like it.”</p><p>Sam sighed. “I’m going to hate every second of this, aren’t I?”</p><p>“Come on, Sam,” Rob said. “It’s a rite of passage here at Brookhaven. I had to do the same thing. Well, not the exact same thing, but everyone does a solo challenge during their last week.”</p><p>“What exactly am I doing?”</p><p>Helen leaned toward him over the table. “You’re first instruction is to meet Daniel Johnson over at the hardware shop. He’ll explain the next step to you.”</p><p>“I didn’t even know there was a hardware store here. Where is it?”</p><p>“Down on Maple. And that’s all we can tell you.”</p><p>Sam grumbled as he finished his eggs and coffee, but waved good-naturedly when Helen and Rob both left to get back to the center. He took the last few sips of his coffee, dug a tip out of his wallet, and headed outside to start Helen’s scavenger hunt. </p><p>As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath. It was going to be hot and humid today, but for now, it just smelled alive and green. It might not be so bad of a day for a bit of a challenge. Sam struck out to the right. He knew Maple was three streets over. </p><p>The shop itself was just around the corner from him according to a helpful passerby. He found the large pull handle and entered. The inside was surprisingly bright and smelled like leather and oil and something metallic. It was comfortingly familiar. He didn’t really spend much time in places like this, but something about it reminded him of Bobby’s house. </p><p>“Hi there,” a rich voice called. It was older, almost frail sounding. “What can I do you for?”</p><p>Sam smiled and took a few step towards the voice. “My name is Sam. Helen sent me and told me to find Daniel?”</p><p>“Ah, that would be me. So you’re the kid they’ve got going up the mountain today. I hope you wore your hiking shoes.”</p><p>Sam was internally panicking. He was going hiking? He knew next to nothing about actually doing anything in the woods. The only time he did much of anything was for a hunt and he almost always had a map and a gun with him. “I guess?”</p><p>“I’m supposed to outfit you with a bag and some general supplies. Also, Helen said you’d need a cooler bag for dinner tonight.”</p><p>Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course she did. What exactly did she say?”</p><p>“Here,” he said. “She left you a note.”</p><p>Sam took the proffered papers and spread them out on the glass top counter between them. He ran a slow finger over the Brailled message. He was getting better, but he was still slow to pick out the shapes, especially in longer words where he had to hold all the letters in his head. It meant his reading speed was infuriatingly slow still.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>Sam,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Welcome to your final challenge. Today is your day to go out into the big bad world and prove what you can do. The itinerary might seem a bit thin, but trust me it’s going to be a big day. Kevin mentioned that you miss getting outside so today you’re going to be tackling the upper trail in Crevice Falls Park. How you get there is up to you, but it’s approximately an 8 mile hike from the trailhead to the campground where you’re going to be setting up for the evening. There’s only one split in the path. Keep to your left when you find it. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Last but not least, you’re going to be hosting a campfire dinner for five tonight. If I can offer a word of advice – keep it simple. Rob’s bringing the beer. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Trust Daniel and don’t forget to pack a lunch! We’ll be seeing you around six tonight. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Your faithful drill sergeant,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Helen</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Sam groaned and skimmed back over the note. A dinner for five over a campfire? The last time he had cooked in an open flame he’d been eleven and their dad had been teaching them how to forage for food. Sam sighed. He was going to have to go to the grocery. He didn’t hold out much hope of doing better than hotdogs, honestly. </p><p>“I take it, it’s not good news then?” Daniel asked. </p><p>“No, it’s fine. Helen just like to keep me on my toes. I don’t suppose you could direct me to a grocery store after this?”</p><p>“Sure, there’s one just around the corner. Let me get you set up here and then I’ll let Frankie know you’re coming. He can have one of his boys meet you and help you out.” </p><p>Sam nodded. “Thanks.”</p><p>Sam left the little hardware store with a hiking backpack that held a cooler with an icepack that Daniel swore would keep until well after sundown tonight, sunscreen, bug spray, and the biggest water bottle Sam had ever held before. He’d originally protested, but Daniel had been adamant about the importance of taking enough water especially this time of year. Sam had bowed to his wisdom and walked out sure he looked like the biggest dork in the world. </p><p>His next stop was the grocery. He spent a good fifteen minutes debating what he could handle cooking, but he just kept coming back to the memory of John grinning as they ate a meal they had put together out of nothing and how sweet the berries they’d gathered for dessert had tasted. </p><p>In the end he decided that if it had been good enough for John Winchester, it would be good enough for the team that had put him up to this on such short notice. The store stocker that was helping him was obviously nervous, but was patient with him as he gathered all the ingredients, ran back for the lunch he’d nearly forgotten to pack, and then remembered he needed aluminum foil and plates. </p><p>By the time he finally set off for the park entrance, Sam was already tired. Armed with directions from Daniel on how to get onto the correct trail and Helen’s cryptic instructions, he managed to find the trailhead as the sun was starting to get overhead. </p><p>The path itself was wide and mostly unlittered. Here and there he found small ruts where rain water must have cut a channel downhill in some of the steeper areas, but for the most part, it was smooth. </p><p>Sam stumbled over a low root he had missed in his sweep and muttered a curse. The path was sloping upwards steeply and he was having to push himself to get up it. It was the most real exercise he had done at once since his stay in the hospital, and he was feeling the lack now. His legs were tired and he was starting to feel a little winded from the constant upward trek. </p><p>His morning had been overcast, so it had stayed relatively cool, but now he kept walking through patches of hot sunlight between the overhanging trees. It was only kept from being unbearable by the soft breeze that was sweeping down the hill and cooling him.</p><p>It was a nice walk. Aside from being a little out of shape, he was relishing the chance to be outside again. He had spent so much time in the center working on getting back some measure of his independence that he hadn’t taken the time to get out and just breathe aside from the few times he’d gone as part of his training. </p><p>Sam felt the ground beneath his feet start to level. His cane found something off to the side of the path and a quick exploration revealed a bench that had been constructed from a roughhewn log. He sat. The bench had probably been designed to afford a view of the lookout, but Sam was just grateful for a chance to rest for a moment.</p><p>He pulled his bag off his shoulders. It was sturdy and padded on the back, the kind of bag actual hikers used for real hikes. His gigantic water bottle was tucked into a mesh side pocket. He pulled it out and took a drink. He didn’t know how long he would be walking or if he would have access to more at the campsite he was heading to, so he only drank a little before he capped the bottle and leaned back listening. </p><p>The birds were calling back and forth overhead. Further back in the woods something skittered, and a branch broke. The wind brushed through the leaves overhead making a soft rustle and off a ways he could even hear the quiet running of water. The scent of pine and dry leaves undercut everything. </p><p>He enjoyed the world around him for another moment then pushed himself to his feet. As much as he would enjoy sitting in nature for the rest of his afternoon, he knew anything Helen and Rob had conspired on would have at least a few surprises, and he wanted to get to bed before midnight tonight. </p><p>He followed the path, exploring the edges with his cane. As he got a little further down, he started to hear the rushing roar of fast moving water. He listened harder, trying to decide if it was an area of rapids on the river that he knew snaked a little ways below him or if it was a waterfall ahead. He was so focused on the noise that he didn’t register the change in the surface under his feet until he stepped and the ground was further away than he expected. Sam lost his balance as it undulated beneath his foot. </p><p>He jerked his weight back onto his other leg, barely staying upright. He took a few steps back and explored the immediate area with his cane. The dirt path led up to a wooden platform that then gave way to some sort of springy path. It felt like it was made up of boards lashed together. When he swept too wide, the tip of his cane got caught in something to his right that he had to extricate it from. It was a net of some sort made out of heavy duty cable. Further exploration showed him that a rope handrail had been strung at about waist height. </p><p>He backtracked thinking he might have missed the proper trail branch but there was nothing obvious within a reasonable distance. If he went much further to the left or right of the platform, he found only a steep drop off. </p><p>He stepped forward, testing his weight. The shift of the boards under his feet was still disconcerting.  Hundreds of people probably crossed the bridge every year. He was in a major park and the area was fully accessible. </p><p>He gave up trying to navigate with his cane and instead gripped the rope guide on either side, checking his step carefully with his foot as he went. For once he was glad he couldn’t see. The long drop down must have been steep, and while he wasn’t afraid of heights by any means, he knew the distance would make his stomach swoop. He couldn’t hear anything up this high except the wind and the rushing water of the falls off to his right. </p><p>At one point he lost his footing and he had to brace himself with his arms as the bridge bounced up and down enough to make him feel slightly seasick. When his foot finally landed on solid ground, he nearly collapsed with relief. He took five minutes to breathe like Kevin had shown him and get his heart rate back under control. He wasn’t sure if he felt exhilarated or terrified. Mostly he just wanted to never do that again. </p><p>When he felt measurably calmer he shook out his cane and struck forward. The path here was gentle and he felt like he had earned the reprieve. His steps took on a new confidence. He had just crossed a rope bridge by himself. He hadn’t panicked and he hadn’t turned back. He’d made his way across steadily, if not gracefully. </p><p>A few more minutes lead him to a fork in the path. He took the left path as he’d been instructed. He had only walked for maybe ten minutes when he realized he was coming up on something large directly ahead. The shade of it was a relief from the harsh sunlight. The broad surface seemed to bounce sounds back at him oddly. He checked to make sure he was still on the path then made his way forward to explore what was blocking the way. </p><p>As he reached out, a voice called from behind him. “Hey!”</p><p>Sam jerked. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone. He dropped his hand and turned back to face the person who had snuck up on him. “Hello?” </p><p>“You Sam?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>The man grunted. There was something spicy about him, like ginger and pepper. “I’m Gary. Rob told me you’d be coming through today. You ready?”</p><p>“Ready for what?”</p><p>“Well, you’ve got to get to the top somehow, right?”</p><p>“Wait,” Sam said. “Top of what?”</p><p>“What exactly did they tell you?”</p><p>“Just that I was going to be hiking solo. Is this the end of the trail?”</p><p>The guy snorted. “Nah, you’re about two thirds to the end of the trail. No, there’s a long switchback that’ll take you to the top of the bluff or you can go the short way and climb up. There’s a dedicated entry point here for the climb.”</p><p>“Wait, climb? Like rock climbing?”</p><p>“Unless you want to climb a tree.”</p><p>“I…okay,” Sam said. He’d come this far after all.</p><p>“Good. Rob mentioned you’d done some hiking. Ever climbed before?”</p><p>“No. This is a first.”</p><p>“Then I’m going to have you wear the harness. It’s not a hard climb, but since it’s your first time I want to be sure we cover all our bases. Safety first!”</p><p>“What exactly does that entail?”</p><p>“Well, come here and I’ll show you.”</p><p>Sam moved forward towards Gary’s voice. The other man took that as all the invitation he needed to begin describing exactly what the process looked like and how the equipment functioned, placing each piece into Sam’s hands as he went. By the time Sam was stepping into the harness and buckling everything up, he actually felt pretty secure about the whole venture. </p><p>Gary positioned him in front of the rock face and said, “Now, you’re going to climb. Reach up above your head with your right hand. There’s a hold about eye level. Use that to brace yourself and find a good foothold. There’s one about at your knee directly in front of you.”</p><p>Gary walked him through the first few holds. When the directions ran out, Sam froze. He couldn’t see to find the next one. He felt a gentle tug on his rope.</p><p>“Relax. You’ve got hands and feet. Just find the next hold. This is an easy climb and there aren’t many dead ends.”</p><p>Sam reached out with his right hand, feeling the way the rock had formed until he found a ledge he thought would hold his weight.</p><p>“Come on Singer. I’ve got your rope. Even if you slip, you’re not going anywhere.”</p><p>Sam tightened his grip and started exploring with his foot for the next hold. When he found it, he leveraged himself up and did it again. And again. He was never entirely sure of what was coming, but as he lifted himself higher and higher, he was starting to feel more confident. </p><p>When he found the top of the bluff, he hefted himself up easily. As he crested the top he rolled so that he was sitting with his legs hanging over the edge. Below him, Gary whooped. </p><p>“Yeah! Hang tight and I’ll be up.”</p><p>Sam let the heat of the sun fall warm on his face as the breeze dried the sweet he’d worked up. He could hear the rustling and clinking of Gary making his way up. In a few minutes, he was sitting down next to Sam. </p><p>“That was fast,” Sam said.</p><p>“Yeah, well. I’ve done it a few hundred times.”</p><p>Sam smiled and leaned back. “I can see why.” It had been a while since Sam had felt the physical pleasure of just working his body. It was the same kind of satisfaction he got from running.</p><p>“You know, climbing is one of the easiest sports to get into. You should probably do some indoor ones first with an expert that can teach you some more, but then if you’ve got a rock, you’ve got a challenge.” </p><p>Sam nodded. “Maybe I will.”</p><p>“Good. Now let’s get you out of this equipment so you can get on your way. I’m sure you’ve still got quite a day ahead.”</p><p>Sam snorted. “You know as much about it as I do,” he said as he climbed to his feet and began undoing the straps on his harness. He finished by handing his helmet over. “Do you want help putting any of this away?”</p><p>“Nah, it’ll only take me a few minutes. Go on. The main trail is at you seven o’clock. I’m supposed to tell you to, and I quote, ‘find number 14.’ Good luck with that.”</p><p>Sam turned toward the path and waved over his shoulder as he set out. </p><p>He stumbled on the camp areas by accident an hour and a half later. He nearly tripped over a rope line at ground level then ran straight into someone. The grunt of surprise said it was a woman, but her shoulders said she could probably take Sam out. Sam stammered through an apology as she cackled. </p><p>“Don’t worry about it. It’s not often tall, handsome men literally fall into my arms. Where you headed?”</p><p>Sam’s hand went to the back of his neck. “Number 14, I guess.”</p><p>“Ah, do you need any help?”</p><p>Sam shook his head. He had just climbed up a rock face. He could handle finding a campsite. “No, if you’ll just point me in the right direction. I’m not familiar with the area.”</p><p>“Well, we’re on site 17. If you head back the way you came to the main trail and turn right, fourteen will be the second on your left.”</p><p>“How are the sites marked? Is there a trail or are they right off the path?”</p><p>“There a short, narrowish path to each of them. There’s a sign post too.”</p><p>Sam nodded. He’d thought the path had just narrowed, but he must have forked off without realizing it. “Thanks,” he said. </p><p>He made his way back to the main trail and down to his assigned campsite. He took some time to explore the area. It was a wide clearing with a few logs set up around a fire pit. Sam let his pack thump to the ground next to the first upright log he found and continued on. The wood stand he discovered on the very back edge of the clearing was nearly full, so Sam didn’t feel too bad about taking some to build a fire with. </p><p>He cast back to the last time they had gone camping, and shuddered. It was the Blackwater Ridge case. The girl, Haley, had built their fire that time. </p><p>Sam worked carefully. He built his fire base with as much care as any pyre he’d ever built. The wood shavings Daniel has given him went at the base to get the fire going. Normally he would douse it in lighter fluid, but the kit only had matches and some basic kindling. He skipped the matches in favor of the lighter he always kept tucked in his pocket. When he smelled the wood start to burn he put away the lighter and held his hand low over the area to make sure it had caught. The heat tickled his palm so he started to build up the base with smaller sticks he had collected, and when those caught, the actual logs. </p><p>As the fire started to burn in earnest, he pulled the supplies he’d packed just that morning out of his pack. He unzipped the cooler bag, and was relieved to find the contents still cool after his day of hiking. After he had chopped the veggies up, he pulled out the fish and divided it into portions. Then he laid everything together onto the foil and topped it with sliced lemons. He made little foil packets and stacked them neatly on the log as he gathered his discarded pieces and wrapped them up in a spare bag to be tossed later. The rest of his tools he wiped off with a cloth and put away into his pack.</p><p>When the fire was well caught, he raked out a small area away from the heart of the heat. He dropped the packets into the ashes and set a timer on his phone to turn them in ten minutes. </p><p>Not long after he turned them the second time, he heard a commotion off down the path towards the main trail. He listened and was rewarded to hear Rob’s shuffling steps growing closer. “Sam?”</p><p>Sam stood and turned to face him. “Hey, I’m here. We’re getting close on the food.”</p><p>“So you made it up okay.”</p><p>“Yeah. Who else is coming? The note said five people.”</p><p>“Well, Helen is on her way up now. She just had to park and grab the beer cooler. Kevin said he might try to come, and we invited your cousin.”</p><p>“Did I hear my name?” Helen chuckled as she trotted up to them dragging something along in her wake. Sam presumed it was the beer. “Man, something smells good. What are we having?”</p><p>“Fish,” Sam said. “It’s the only thing I know how to make over a fire. Mind, last time I did this I was eleven and we foraged for all of it.”</p><p>“Wait,” Rob said. “Did you?”</p><p>“No, I wasn’t sure it there’d be a place to fish and I might have been a little afraid of poisoning us with deadly mushrooms or something. All of it came from the store.”</p><p>“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.”</p><p>“Considering the lecture I got in the difference between carrots and hemlock, I’d go with relieved,” Sam snarked.</p><p>Helen snorted as Sam heard two more set of footsteps approaching. “You’re skill set is very confusing.”</p><p>Kevin laughed as he approached the group. “That’s what I keep saying. What have you done now?”</p><p>Sam huffed. “I cooked dinner, like Helen told me to. It’s not my fault my dad was a survival nut.” </p><p>The conversation drifted towards the log seating as Sam’s timer went off. He moved to the fire, and collected his tongs. Cas wandered over as he pulled the packets from the fire and stacked them neatly to the side. </p><p>“You seem to have had quite the day. Kevin was telling me a little of their plan for you. Was it fun?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said, straightening up. “Yeah, it was. I wasn’t expecting it to be, but it was.”</p><p>“I’m glad. You look happy tonight.”</p><p>Sam grinned. He had done a lot more today than he ever could have imagined when he woke up in that hospital room. It didn’t quite make up for everything that had happened, but just then, Sam was riding the high from all he had accomplished. “I think I am.”</p><p>He retrieved the paper plates and plastic cutlery from the top of his bag and brought them over. “Alright. Come and get it,” he said with a grin.</p><p>They spent a few minutes collecting food and beers and settling around the fire. Then the clearing fell quiet as everyone dug into their meal. Finally, Helen said, “Sam, this is delicious. I don’t even think I can take credit for this. How did you come up with it?”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “I guess you could say it’s kind of a family recipe.”</p><p>“Really? I thought you weren’t much of a cook.”</p><p>“The only cook in the family is my brother, but my dad was an ex-marine. He took us out one time and showed us how to forage at least some basic things that you can get pretty much anywhere. This is the same thing just from the store and spruced up a bit.”</p><p>The atmosphere was light and had a celebratory air to it. Sam was starting to feel relaxed and comfortable for the first time in months. Cas settled at his side. He didn’t say anything, but it was nice to have a little piece of his family close to him, especially on a day like today. He hadn’t expected to have a reprieve like this. He hoped Cas was enjoying it too, but didn’t want to spoil the mood by asking. </p><p>Instead, he set aside his empty plate and said, “So I’ve got to ask. Why hiking?”</p><p>Kevin cleared his throat across the fire. “Everyone here knows that you were hiking when you had your accident. Since it wasn’t directly related to losing your sight, we wanted to show you that it was still accessible to you now. Dr. Singleton has a thing about making someone’s final challenge personal to them.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Rob said. “And you’re pretty tight lipped, Sam. So we improvised based on what we knew.”</p><p>“Wait, everyone gets a personalized challenge?”</p><p>“Well,” Rob said. “Sort of. It always has a few common elements like making purchases, cooking a meal, navigating in the city – you are proving you can provide for yourself – but we try to frame that in a way that is important to each person.”</p><p>Sam digested that. “What other things have you done?”</p><p>“Oh a little bit of everything at this point. We had a guy once who ran a marathon. One person surprised the rest of the residents with a dance party. The long term residents who come through as a class often go white water rafting or spelunking as a group.”</p><p>“Remember Rebecca?” Helen’s voice was bright at the recollection. “She was a singer. For hers, she put on a recital and held a small reception afterward. She had been blind a few years before she came and that was the first time she had sung in public since her diagnosis.”</p><p>“Wow,” Sam said. It was humbling to realize the challenges that people before him had faced. “And you come up with all of these?”</p><p>“Not all of them,” Kevin said. “It depends on the case. Sometimes we discuss it ahead of time, like with Rebecca. Things that we know will take preparation or if we feel someone needs to take back that control. For the ones like you that struggle more with letting go, we find that throwing a curveball at you is a better test of your progress.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Think about today,” Helen said. “If I had told you it was coming, you would have planned everything out. You would have figured out how you wanted to tackle each and every little element before you even went out and tried. It’s not bad, per se, but if we want to see how you are going to handle the challenges you’re going to face, we have to surprise you. We’ve also all noticed you have a habit of pounding away at a problem to the exclusion of everything else. Today was about giving you back a little of that escape that you’ve been denying yourself.”</p><p>Sam frowned. The sun was creeping down and the flickering light from the fire had overtaken the shadows cast by the end of the sunset. He knew he hadn’t given himself a chance to rest much, but neither had they. He had thought that the grueling pace had been at their hands, rather than his own. “Did I pass?”</p><p>Helen shifted, and her log creaked with the motion. “What do you think?”</p><p>“I made it to the campground in one piece and I didn’t burn dinner, so I’m counting it as a win.”</p><p>“Notice how those are adding up?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said. He really had. He had more good days than bad now. While the knowledge that Dean was out there somewhere was eating at him, he didn’t feel quite so hopeless anymore. He could put on his socks and make his own breakfast and cross the road on his own. He was gaining ground. It might not be the way he wanted to find Dean, but he had fewer doubts that could do it now.</p><p>He shook his head. This was no time to be melancholy or introspective. He grinned and pulled his pack around to sit between his feet. “Everyone go and find a stick,” he said as he brandished a package of marshmallows in the air. </p><p>Cas grunted beside him. “Is that a reference I don’t understand?”</p><p>Sam laughed.  “No, I mean it. I’ve got the stuff for s’mores, but you have to pick out the right stick to roast your marshmallow.”</p><p>Across from him, Rob grumbled and clunked down his bottle. “Couldn’t have told me when I was sober,” he muttered. </p><p>Helen clapped him on the back with a laugh. “Come on, old man. You heard the guy. Put your money where your mouth is. If Sam can find a marshmallow stick, then so can you.”</p><p>“What exactly are the qualifications for a marshmallow roasting stick,” Cas asked.</p><p>Sam laughed and stood. He grabbed Cas by the elbow and tugged him to his feet as well. “Come on and I’ll show you. Man, I can’t believe we haven’t done s’mores together before.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. A Measure of Control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After his evening in the woods, Sam had expected to sleep soundly. It had been a long day, and while not particularly strenuous compared to his day job, it was more exercise than he’d been getting in the last weeks. He had gone back to his room with every intention of crashing as soon as he laid down. Instead, he spent most of the night tossing and turning. He would wake up with his brain spinning in circles about what might happen next. Would he be able to find Dean and cure him? Would he be able to live independently in the bunker? If he brought Dean home, would he still want to be around Sam now that he was a bigger liability than ever before? </p><p>In his rational brain he knew all the worry and anxiety wasn’t helpful. Everything he’d been through in the last two months had been preparing him to live as independently as possible. He would have to bring Dean home before they could even begin to answer the question of what to do next, and past experience had shown him Dean was more likely to coddle him than abandon him. He should be worrying about how he was going to mark out his own independence from an overprotective big brother than he was about Dean leaving him or pushing him out. </p><p>In total, he got four hours of intermittent sleep. He gave up an hour before his alarm was set to go off and got up to start packing up the few things he’d brought with him. </p><p>In the quiet of the early morning, he could almost pretend he was just packing up from another hotel. He had never been much of a hoarder and he’d paired his travel bag down to bare essentials as he was hopping across state lines after his brother. Even making allowances like taking the time to fold everything, keeping the order of his shirts, and being mindful of how his toiletries were packed away, he was done in half an hour. He even made a thorough search of every drawer, cabinet, and countertop just to be sure he’d gotten everything. </p><p>The extra time wasn’t good for him. He ended up pacing back and forth across the room until his watch finally read a decent time for him to descend for breakfast. He took his bag with him and left the door unlocked. He wouldn’t be coming back. </p><p>The dining hall was always a little subdued in the morning. Not all the residents ate breakfast and most were preparing for the day. It would be a livelier place around lunch when folks would congregate in their normal groups a little more. This early, Sam was sure to be left alone. </p><p>He pulled out the book of short poems Helen had given him last week. He had a bit of time to kill before Cas would be there to pick him up. It was as good a time as any to practice. None of the poems were very long. Most fit onto a page, making them the perfect size to get through in odd bits of time. </p><p>He lost himself in picking out the letters and reading them as a whole. It wasn’t until he heard the scuff of a shoe beside his table that he realized the hall had grown a bit busier as more people woke up and stumbled in. He paused in his reading and tilted his head towards the sound. “Hello?”</p><p>“Hi, Sam,” Kevin said. “I didn’t expect to see you down here this morning. Mind if I join you for a moment?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam smiled at Kevin and motioned at the empty seat across from him. “I couldn’t sleep.”</p><p>“Ah. Nervous,” he asked as he sat down.</p><p>“Some. What are you doing down this way? I didn’t think you usually ate here.”</p><p>Kevin snorted. “I’m out of coffee and Joe’s scones are famous around here. I stopped by for a pick-me-up before my first session.”</p><p>“You know, for all the coffee you seem to burn, I’d think your office would reek of it.”</p><p>“Oh, and what does my office smell like, pray tell?”</p><p>“Mint, leather, and new books. I was a little thrown by it at first. It wasn’t what I’d expected in an office like that.”</p><p>“New books have a smell?”</p><p>“Mmm. Woodsy and sharp. They’ve got a bit of a tang to them. Haven’t you ever noticed?”</p><p>“Not really, no. Anyway, that’s not why I stopped by. I just wanted to say goodbye. The way my day is structured here, I don’t always get the chance.” </p><p>Sam smiled at him. “I get it. I didn’t expect anything, really. I figured I had seen everyone for the last time yesterday.”</p><p>“All the same. I think you should know you’ve done some important work while you’ve been here. I know you’ve still got a bit of a road ahead of you, but you’re doing fine.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Sam said. He hadn’t been expecting the praise and it left him off kilter, but it meant so much that Kevin believed he was making progress. Of all the people here, Kevin had the best idea what Sam was dealing with and where he stood. “I’m glad our paths crossed again.”</p><p>“Yeah, me too.” Kevin rose from his seat. He stood to the side of the table for a moment. Sam waited as he debated with himself. Finally he cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said, quietly so no one would overhear them. “I don’t normally do this, but I know it can be difficult to find people you trust to talk to, with your job being what it is. I’m going to give you my card. If you ever need to talk – about anything – I’m here.”</p><p>Sam frowned. “I can’t do that. I can’t even pay you.”</p><p>“I’m not looking for payment. You’re saving the world; think of it like a job benefit. At least take the card. You don’t have to do anything with it, but then you know the option is always there.”</p><p>Sam reached forward and took the card that was being held out to him. “I’m sure it wasn’t your usual type of case, but I’m grateful for everything.”</p><p>“Thank you! I really do have to go, but take care of yourself.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam said. “I will.”</p><p>Cas found him ten minutes later still sitting at the table, tracing the edges of the card. He tucked it into his wallet for safe keeping. “Are you ready to go?” Cas asked.</p><p>Sam nodded. He shouldered his bags and took Cas’s proffered arm, allowing him to take the lead. After a short detour to check out with reception and say his goodbyes to Rob and Helen, who had both stopped him in the hallway, they made their way to the front door, leaving much the way they came in. </p><p>Sam settled himself into the cramped car. Neither of them said anything as Cas started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. There wasn’t much he could say. In a few hours, he would be home. The amount of work he was going to have to do to even function in the bunker was mind boggling. At least he had an idea or two of where to start now. </p><p>He lasted about two hundred miles before he was forced to admit he’d found one more way his life had changed. Sam swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. The moisture in his mouth pooled uncomfortably under his tongue. As the car jerked forward, he knew with absolute certainty that he was going to hurl if he didn’t stop soon. He sucked in a ragged breath through his nose and focused on his aching grip on the door handle. </p><p>“Cas, man. I gotta take a break,” he bit out. “Can we just find a diner or a gas station or something? Anything.”</p><p>“Are you okay? You look pale.”</p><p>Sam shook his head and focused on breathing through the rolling mess in his stomach. The car lurched as Cas made a turn. Sam nearly lost the battle right then. They drove for another minute then came to a jerky stop. Sam didn’t wait beyond hearing the engine die off. He flung open the door and pushed himself out, sucking in fresh air. Standing upright helped. He moaned and let the car behind him take his weight. </p><p>He felt the car rock under him as Cas climbed out and shut his door with a thump. “Sam?”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “M’fine. Just a little carsick.” After a long moment where he worked on forcing his rebelling stomach to behave while Cas stared at him, he finally sighed. “This sucks.”</p><p>“I’ve never known you to get carsick before.”</p><p>“Yeah. Me either.”</p><p>It was one of the first times he felt truly betrayed by his body in all this. He had been riding in cars his whole life. He could sleep, work a crossword, or even research without so much as a single protest from his stomach. Now that he couldn’t anticipate the way the car moved or distract himself from the motion, he found his gorge rising with very little provocation. </p><p>Sam shifted and stood fully. He could smell the acrid fumes of gasoline and hear people coming and going in front of him. They must be at a gas station. “Do they have a store?”</p><p>“A small one. Would you like to go in?”</p><p>“Yeah. Maybe they have some crackers or something. Is it busy?”</p><p>“There are a few people inside, but not many.”</p><p>Sam nodded and stood. He made his slow way towards the door. He was starting to feel better now that the only movement was his own. He paused to let Cas go first and took his arm when it was offered. In his experience small gas stations were a tripping hazard at the best of times. He didn’t want to knock a display over because he was clumsy from his stomach. He pulled his cane in tight to his body and moved when Cas did. </p><p>“Be careful,” Cas said, quietly. “It’s narrow in here.”</p><p>Sam nodded and shuffled so that he was walking a little behind Cas. He could feel eyes following them through the store. They paused in the middle of an aisle. Cas hummed and shifted away from him. “There’s many kinds of crackers. What do you like?”</p><p>Sam knew he was being watched. It made the back of his neck prickle. He did his best to shake it off and ignore the feeling, but it grated on his nerves. Couldn’t he have five minutes without being the freak? </p><p>“It doesn’t matter. Something plain. Just whatever’s cheap.”</p><p>Sam’s skin was crawling with the scrutiny, and his stomach was decidedly not happy about the nerves it was stirring up. He felt the roiling queasiness return. He squeezed Cas’s arm lightly and said, “I’m going to find the bathroom. Would you grab me a ginger ale if they have one?”</p><p>Cas patted his hand. “I will. The restroom is against the back wall behind us. The aisle stretches to your left all the way to the cooler wall. There are two more between here and there but the outer aisle looks clear.”</p><p>Sam nodded and stepped back. He turned so that he was facing more square in the aisle, then made his way slowly down towards the coolers. He aimed toward the humming of the refrigeration and turned left when he hit the wall. </p><p>He heard someone step up beside him. He took a quick step to the side so that they could get past. He let the tip of his cane follow the wall, searching for the point where the unit ended and the door to bathroom was supposedly set.</p><p>He had taken two steps forward when a hand closed around his elbow. “Here, let me-”</p><p>Sam jerked to his side, spinning to break the grip. His hand shot out to grasp the wrist of the offending arm. </p><p>“Whoah! Chill.” The voice was of a man, fairly short and on the younger side. Sam dropped the arm as if had bitten him. It was just another customer. “What’s your problem, man?”</p><p>Sam grit his teeth. “My problem? What’s yours?”</p><p>He could feel the man drawing up across from him. “Now listen here. I was only helping. No need to be an asshole about it.”</p><p>“I didn't ask for your help, and I don’t need it,” Sam snapped. “Keep your hands to yourself.”</p><p>“Geeze,” the man muttered. “Guess that’s what I get for trying to be nice around here.”</p><p>Sam’s fist clenched so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palm. He wanted to scream at this guy that so obviously didn’t understand basic courtesy, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. </p><p>Instead, he turned with a huff and found the bathroom door. He ran his hand down the wall alongside the door frame until he found a plastic plaque. The short line of braille punched into the sign told him he’d found the men’s restroom on the first try. He pushed open the heavy door and let it thump behind him. A quick tap of his cane on the tiled floor told him it was a smallish area, probably a one room set up. He reached behind him. He discovered a button lock on the door handle and pressed it in.</p><p>He explored as little as possible. He knew just how vile a gas station bathroom could be. He didn’t relish setting his hand on a questionable surface. There was a paper towel dispenser on the wall to the right of the sink. The towels were stiff and hard, but he wet them anyway. </p><p>The cool water felt good on his face and being out of the watchful eye of a shop full of people was doing wonders for his nerves. He’d had no illusions that this was going to be a cake walk, but he’d thought he was past the worst. He assumed once he left the center he would feel confident and capable. Instead it was like he was standing at a precipice about to pitch headfirst over the edge. He didn’t have the safe confines of Brookhaven’s walls anymore. He wasn’t in a little town that knew and helped the residents. He was in the real world with real people and real problems he had to find solutions for. Unsolicited “help” was going to be one of those problems.</p><p>When he felt measurably calmer and was certain Cas had time to find their things, he washed his hands and left the confines of the tiny restroom. As he stepped out, Cas called to him from near the front entrance. </p><p>Sam nodded at him in acknowledgement, secretly glad he hadn’t popped up at his elbow to guide him out. Instead Sam picked his way around the cramped shelves, and together they made their way back to the confines of the car. More than once he had to make Cas pull off so he could take a break and walk around. He honestly thought these little pit stops were good for Cas too. He seemed to always have a note of relief when Sam asked if they could pause for a snack or a bathroom break.</p><p>The drive straight through should have taken them about twelve hours. Between their frequent stops and some bad traffic around Kansas City, they didn’t pull up outside the bunker until nearly midnight that night. Sam was tired and sore. He wanted nothing more than a hot shower and his bed. </p><p>The night had long since swallowed what little he could see, the deep darkness broken only when another car passed them. The stretch of road they lived on was devoid of streetlights. Even before all of this, he’d thought the area felt abandoned. Now, he realized for the first time just how empty it really was. Somehow, however unsettling the shifting grey landscape of his daytime vision was, it was times like this, when he was completely engulfed in the dark, that sent a thrum of anxiety through him. It was one thing to work at night in the shadows and dark corners of the world. It was another entirely to feel like he was floating in a vast expanse of lightless unknown. </p><p>It was a bit of a relief when they entered the bunker and the soft, diffused light broke the darkness. It was barely bright enough to be more than a deep, almost charcoal grey, but in the dimness he could make out more of the individual light sources. Something about that was comforting, and he felt a little of the strain he’d been carrying all day ease. His feet carried him down the steep stairs and into the main war room. He may not be able to see it, but he was finally home. </p><p>Cas stopped beside him. “Do you need help to your room?”</p><p>Sam tried to think about it honestly. Could he make it on his own? He’d walked these halls half asleep and in the dark a hundred times. There was every chance he could do it now from memory. He wouldn’t be making any inroads towards actually learning the layout, but he remembered enough to get himself to his room. </p><p>“I think I’m okay.”</p><p>When he was safely behind his own bedroom door, he dropped his bag by the desk, kicked his shoes off beside it, and shed his flannel over shirt and his jeans into a pile on top of the duffel. He had one desire at that moment and that was the heaven of his very own bed. The rest could wait until he’d lost some of the stiffness from his aching back and legs. He briefly considered relaxing under the spray of a hot shower, but not even that temptation could drag him back up once he’d let himself sink against the mattress.</p><p>The next morning he woke feeling unsettled. The meager light that spilled into his room from the high set window felt dim, and he spent a long time just lying in his bed listening to the sounds of the bunker. After a full night of sleep, it felt alien. This place had become close to a permanent home for them in a very short time, but he might as well be on another planet. It was huge and labyrinthine, with little to no accommodations for someone like him that he could remember. He doubted the Men of Letters had considered it likely they would need to be accessible in that way. After all, how does a blind man hunt or study ancient lore? </p><p>He was starting all over. Putting a place of this size into any kind of order wasn’t just daunting, it was damn near impossible. Still, he’d never thought he would be able to go grocery shopping or climb a cliff face either, and he’d done both. </p><p>Moping wouldn’t help. He was finally home. He was one step closer in his mission to find and cure Dean. If he had to reinvent the Men of Letters filing system to do it, he would. He pushed himself up and wound his way through the maze of corridors to the shower. When he was fresher, he wandered into the kitchen. </p><p>“Sam,” Cas said as he stepped down into the central area. Sam nodded at him, but he was far more interested in coffee than conversation.</p><p>Cas seemed to understand immediately what he was after. “Careful, the burner is on. There’s about half a pot left.”</p><p>Sam grunted in appreciation and helped himself. Once he had settled on a stool at the table, Cas took a seat across from him. “We didn’t talk yesterday about what would need to be done. I assume there’s work you might need help with in order to make the main areas useable.”</p><p>Sam nodded. “Yeah, a bit, but none of it is essential right this second.”</p><p>“Sam,” Cas said. There was a sternness to his tone Sam rarely heard directed towards himself. If anything it reminded him of Dean calling him on his bullshit.</p><p>“Okay, yeah. There’s a lot. It will all need some sort of system.”</p><p>“Where would you like to begin?”</p><p>Sam took a long drink off his coffee, giving the question some serious thought. The kitchen was going to be a high priority if he was going to keep them fed. But so was his bathroom and his own room. “My room. I’ll probably start in there. The rest I can probably fumble through for a few days, but I need my things to be in order.”</p><p>“Very well. Shall I make breakfast before we get into it?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Would you like to eat before we begin?”</p><p>“Cas, I uh...I appreciate it. I do. But you don’t have to do that.”</p><p>“Make breakfast? I assumed that until we set up the kitchen it would be easier, but I won’t if you don’t want me to.”</p><p>“No! It’s not that. I just meant I know you’ve stuck around for a while now and I don’t want to keep you from doing your own thing. You shouldn’t give up your life just because I am…what I am now.”</p><p>Cas sighed, deeply and heavily. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve told you many times that this is where I want to be. Now, do you want breakfast or not?”</p><p>Sam couldn’t help the small niggle of guilt clawing at his chest. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of, the people in his life having to take care of him. Still, he was grateful. He didn’t know how he would manage on his own right now. </p><p>Sam brushed off the thought and shrugged. “I’ve been gone for over three months. I don’t know that there’s anything fit for consumption in the fridge. Dean sometimes keeps some bagels in the freezer though, and the butter should still be okay.”</p><p>Sam leaned back in his seat as Cas rose and crossed the room. There was the rustle of bags being moved around and finally the freezer door thumped shut. “I didn’t find bagels but there’s a pack of English muffins with a threatening note taped on them.”</p><p>Sam chuckled. “That will work. Just throw a couple under the broiler and they’ll toast up.”</p><p>“The note says eat these and die. Just for clarification, it’s a warning not to steal them and not because they’ve been poisoned, correct?”</p><p>“Yeah. Dean’s possessive of his snacks, but he’s not here right now. If he throws a fit, blame it on me. I can’t possibly have read the note.”</p><p>There was the clatter of a pan as Cas set about hearing the oven and making them some breakfast. Sam was content to sip at his coffee. When they finally had their toast and were nearly done with their food, Sam sat back and stretched. He breathed deeply, enjoying the familiar smell of the kitchen, a little spicy and a little musky with odd notes of more exotic herbs floating around. There were even hints of whiskey still lingering. </p><p>Cas finished the last of his toast and cleared the plates and mugs into the sink. Sam would do the dishes, but they could wait until later. “So,” Sam said. He wasn’t fond of the idea of asking for help, but he had to get something done, take some small measure of control back over his life here in his own home. “Are you sure you want to help? It’s probably going to be a pretty boring day. Lots of labeling and sorting.”</p><p>Cas laid a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure.”</p><p>Sam nodded and rose. “Then let’s get started.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I have a confession. I've been struggling with where to go with this, which is why I haven't updated like I should. I had one idea when I first started writing, but now I'm not sure it makes sense for the story and I've posted up to the point where it makes a major difference for the rest of the action (for the next 4-5 chapters). I'm toying with some tweaks, but it's going to mean a fundamentally different direction and well, let's just say that the draft doc is over 120k words at this point. So we're not talking small changes. I think I have an idea what needs to happen, but I'd also be lying if I said it wasn't going to take me some time to work through it. </p><p>Seriously guys, it's got a mind of its own at this point. </p><p>As much as I don't want to do this, I'm going to say please consider this on hiatus for a little while. I might be able to salvage it and get it up in a few weeks, but it might take me a little longer. I promise I'm not abandoning it! I just need a little time to unsnarl this plot a bit. I'd rather take the time now than write myself into an even worse corner and not be able to fix it at all. </p><p>Thank you all for your awesome support! I've loved reading all your comments. More to come as soon as I figure out what the heck is going on and where this outline went so horribly wrong.</p>
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